Secret Invasion
by Mandalore Jaig
Summary: Sean Wraith, is given the monumental task of subverting the Skrull invasion, before it happens. Meanwhile Jackson, a reality warping powerhouse has his own issues to figure out, not least among them deciding to be a hero for Nick Fury or Norman Osborn. This is set in the Marvel universe section of Jericho Lament's and my Marvel/DC Crossover universe.
1. Chapter 1

Secret Invasion Chapter 1

"A large coffee. Nothing else. No sugar, no cream, no whatever the hell those 37 bottles behind you are full of." Jackson Owens demanded with his eyes screwed up in the early morning expression of a caffeine addict.

"So you want a grande coffee but you need to specify what kind of roast you want." The middle aged woman at the counter taking his order was doing remarkably well keeping her calm, considering what the man had done to the armed thief pinned against the wall.

"Whichever has the most kick. And give me the biggest size you have. To go."

"Mmmmmmh!" the man stuck to the wall behind Jackson moaned around his gag. Jackson had practically mummified him in duct tape and stuck him on the wall. A far more pleasant fate than the teenager who had pistol whipped Jackson, but still uncomfortable.

"Wait your turn. We have this thing called a line for a very good reason. It isn't my fault you stepped away." It definitely was his fault, but the obvious and easily refuted lie was a good indicator of the type of person Jackson was. "Coffee, please. Before I become disagreeable." The barista made it as quickly as possible and filled up a 96oz travel container. As soon as it was on the counter Jackson picked it up and started guzzling the nearly boiling liquid. Everyone watched as he put away nearly half of the hot coffee in a single go. When he finally stopped and put the lid back on the travel jug his eyes were wide open. A little too wide for him to look sane. "Much better." He tossed a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "Oh, and you might want to call the police on those two. The bindings won't last for more than an hour."

Jackson walked out of the Starbucks with a caffeine fueled smile. He stepped outside into an all-out assault on the city. Mechanized soldiers were dropping from dirigibles hanging in the sky and shooting everything that was out in the open. Jackson took another gulp of coffee and tossed the container aside, unfinished. This was the reason he was here, he had been called to this city with the promise of answers. And since his opponents were mere mechanical dolls there was no need for him to hold back. With a wave of his hand, the young man sent a hail of metal javelins up into the sky at Mach 1.

The onslaught tore through mechanical bodies and shredded blimps with disdain and when their momentum had been exhausted they began to fall back to the earth. Jackson made use of gravity and guided his creations toward remaining targets. They impacted at their terminal velocity, shredding metal bodies and shattering the pavement beneath the robots. Conjuring a staircase, Jackson walked to a greater height in order to better see his targets. He'd destroyed two of the five blimps in his first attack and now the other three were coming straight for him along with the ground troops they had already deployed. Perfect.

"Hey, dimwits! Over here you useless scrap heaps! I'm putting out a call for all walking dustbins!" Jackson shouted with manic cheer. That actually seemed to spur the mechanized legion toward him faster. That meant there was something with an ego controlling the many robots. Not that Jackson Owens cared one way or the other. He mentally commanded the javelins to rise into the air and point toward the force charging at him with the promise of death.

The rest of the dismantling took more than an hour and Jackson made a show of it. Far more of a show than he really had to so the TV cameras could get their fill. When it was over he reformed the javelins into metal bins in order to carry the scrap to a metal compactor or a recycling plant. If he simply let his created weapons disappear then the damage done to the robots would also be undone and they may just start up and begin killing people again. And he couldn't have that. He needed everyone to think he was a hero, at least for a while.

#

Nick Fury looked at the Skrull body on the floor, that still vaguely looked like Valentina Fontaine. He took out a cell phone and dialed. Someone picked up. "July 16th, 1941. Soldier." He hung up before the person could reply.

#

Jackson's performance was seen by millions, no that he cared much. But the audience he really wanted to impress was tuned in to the broadcast as well. The cloaked Skrull ship was monitoring all of Earth's communications, though sifting through the garbage to find the important information was tedious. The Captain of the ship watched the broadcast of Owen's heroism with interest. An unknown hero, and one with the ability to freely manipulate a specific material. The strange metal spears defied the analytic techniques of his agents on the ground. The material had vanished from Skrull hands sometime in the night. Interesting.

This was a golden opportunity. Replacing established heroes was a time-consuming business because so many details had to be accounted for. But with someone so new and unknown the details could be overlooked. All the infiltration agent needed to do was take him out in private and switch places.

Once enough heroes were replaced and the balance tipped in favor of a successful invasion the charade would no longer be necessary. Oh how the Captain wished that time was already upon him. This was the most dull, plodding method of takeover he'd ever been misfortunate enough to take part in. He wanted blood and violent death. The more the better. He thought of the despair and agony of the betrayed humans when the curtain fell. It improved his mood somewhat.

"Kaigor. Do you think you can replace this one without making a mess?" the Captain asked a particularly deadly specimen standing behind his chair.

"Of course." Came the exceedingly gruff reply. The Skrull's voice sounded like his vocal chords had been damaged at some point in the past. "He's a toothpick, even by human standards."

"Minimal collateral damage."

"Of course."

#

Four hours later a young man walked into a café and dropped into a seat facing an old man. He ordered a black tea. They didn't say anything for awhile. "You got some nerve, calling in a favor to me."

"Last I checked you promised to work for me."

"That was before your little incursion into Latveria. I didn't appreciate you trying to erase my memories."

"I don't apologize for what I did."

"No, you never do." He paused and eyed the people around them. "So what's the deal this time?"

"What do you know about the Skrulls?"

The young man licked his teeth. "Shapeshifters. Aliens. Mean, but practically red shirts. Well, except for what's-his-face that has the Fantastic Four's powers."

"They've invaded."

"Past tense?"

"You don't seem surprised."

He shrugged. "With my… experience… it takes a lot for someone to pass themselves off as someone else. An alien shapeshifter stands out for me. A human walks a certain way, talks, generally behaves in specific ways that no alien can mimic. It takes a human to be a human. Heck even human shapeshifters have a hard time switching genders. A man just can't be a woman or vice versa. Each gender has certain unique aspects, and they're not just physical. But I've noticed some oddities going on. I'm not around the Avengers and the like that often, but I don't know. I was wondering if some of them, and even some SHIELD agents had been replaced."

"So you're saying you could spot a Skrull?"

"Yes. Look, I'm not saying that I can spot them quickly, especially one in a crowd. But yeah, I can spot a Skrull, especially one on one."

"Good, because you're going to have to."

The young man straightened up. "What's the mission, Director?"

"You know I'm not in SHIELD anymore. I got some of my own plans to move on, but I need someone who can start doing things now, but quietly."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know who's all been replaced or what the game is, but I want you to find out who has been, and infiltrate the Skrulls."

"That's a heck of a counter-intelligence mission."

"Yes, but if they hit us, and we can't know who to trust, that's going to be a problem." Fury got up to leave.

"One question, sir. How do you know I'm who I say I am?"

"Because you knew where I was talking about. Not many people know enough about you to know where you were at that date. And, because you're too much of an unknown to bother replacing. You've only really worked for me that anyone's aware of, and even then we weren't close. No, they'd replace random SHIELD agents before they'd replace you, Sean. Enjoy your tea." Fury was quickly lost in the crowd as the waitress brought Sean his tea.

Sean blew on it as he looked over the cup's rim at the people around him. This was going to be a tough one.

#

The interview with the reporters didn't take very long but helping to clear the destroyed robots did take a good deal of his time. It had to be done though. And when it was done, Jackson Owens rented all the rooms at a tiny little motel and waited. He was glad he'd stolen money from several organizations while he searched for his answers, turns out that money was actually useful for something. By renting all the rooms he could keep the civilian casualties to a minimum. It wasn't the sort of thing he was used to thinking about since he'd rarely had cause to play defense. The last time he had defended himself had been 5 years ago when Weapon X decided they wanted to unravel the secrets to Jackson's power. It had turned out very messy. Like Nick Fury, the Weapon X program believed that Jackson was unwilling or unable to kill human beings. That had been a very costly mistake on their part and had required Jackson to dig a very deep hole. But the fight had resulted in the accidental deaths of two innocent bystanders. _Not this time._ Jackson promised himself. He was likely to live a very long time and he didn't want to burden himself with the deaths of innocent people. It kind of killed the delirious euphoria he lived in most of the time.

"I wish they would hurry this up." Jackson grumbled to himself. He broke open a fortune cookie, one of several dozen he'd bought along with his Mongolian stir-fry. "May you live to see interesting times… Hey!" Jaskson protested meekly at the curse inside his fortune cookie. He sat up from his bed and flicked the small piece of paper into the air. Before it drifted down to the floor he created a small knife. The conjured metal pierced the paper and pinned it to the wall opposite the bed. It narrowly missed the neck of the cloaked Skrull agent who had been observing Jackson for the last half an hour.

The agent's conclusion after thirty minutes of observation was that this human was mentally damaged and would use his powers at the tip of a hat. He spoke to himself, sometimes speaking only half of a conversation out loud. Listening to the human attempt to sing had been painful and he had almost broken his cover just to shut the ape up. Then, mercifully, the human had turned on the motel's primitive television and begun flipping through channels.

"I'd turn on something from pay-per-view for you, but I don't think they have anything featuring green women." Jackson said. The Skrull tensed where he was. There was no way the boy could have known he was there. His cloak made him invisible and inaudible. But the knife Jackson sent speeding at his head proved that he had been found out. He ducked the knife and dropped his apparently useless cloak.

"How did you know I was there?" the Skrull asked.

"Did you know how hard it was to find a motel that had shag carpeting?" Jackson said, pointing to the alien's feet. Apparently the cloaking device wasn't able to hide the half-inch deep footprints the Skrull left in the floor. Such a simple mistake, but that one misstep had blown his cover. "Now that you're done hiding we can talk." Jackson said with what he meant to be a cheerful smile. Even the Skrull could tell that he had failed miserably. Now that the human's attention was focused on him, the infiltrator was feeling uneasy, almost sick. Was this thing really human?

"No talking. You're going into cold storage and I'll be taking your place."

"And I should come quietly or else, is that about right?"

"You will go quietly. No second option." The Skrull pulled out a weapon that would render Jackson unconscious. It had the added bonus of being excruciatingly painful. The weapon, disguised as a water pistol so he could carry it without causing a scene if he happened to be seen, fired a line of blue energy at Jackson who didn't even attempt to dodge. When it hit the human his body twitched spasmodically and he let out an eardrum-shattering scream. It was a deeply satisfying moment for the Skrull. Jackson dropped to the thick carpet like a boned fish. "Finally." He went to go retrieve the fallen superhero and transport him back to the scout ship orbiting the planet. The Skrull grabbed the limp body by the wrist but jumped in surprise when the body grabbed back.

"Gotcha." The Skrull felt his skin try to crawl away from Jackson's grip. He made eye contact with the human for the first time and instantly knew that he should have turned down this mission.

#

The bell on the bookstore's door rang as a young man entered. "Good morning," he called to the green eyed woman behind the counter. She nodded politely to him. The handful of other customers glanced at him and then back to the books they were considering.

The man wandered around the store, pausing a little longer in the history section. After awhile he brought up a book to the counter.

"Jesus , the Apostles and the Early Church by Pope Benedict. Good choice." The woman at the counter scanned the bar code.

The man smiled at her. "Are you saying that because you've read it?"

She bowed her head, smiling. "No, I can't say that I have." She swept back a stray strand of brown hair in a self conscious way.

He pulled out his credit card, and pressed it into her hand. "You should try his Introduction to Christianity. It's quite a good analysis of Christianity, religion, and humanity in general. You might find it very educational."

Her smile faltered momentarily. "Thank you. I'll look into it."

#

Norman Osborn was having a very bad day. His Thunderbolts were the ones who were supposed to stop that carefully planned attack. He'd "acquired" mechanized soldiers and sent them to attack so his team could take them down and get the glory. But some upstart meta-human had shown up and completely wrecked the small army of robots before his team could respond. How was he ever going to move up in the world if some random kid could foul everything up.

His computer beeped, alerting him that the facial recognition program he'd been running had gotten results. The face he'd run through every government database had gotten multiple hits, including one hit from the DMV. According to the US government, Jackson Owens was legally dead. The face on the drivers license matched the one form the news broadcast almost exactly. He'd even arranged for fingerprints to be taken from the coffee shop Jackson had visited before taking on a robot army. Those matched the juvenile police record attached to the name Jackson Owens. Every record he'd found told him two things: This young man was physically identical to Jackson Owens, and that Jackson Owens was declared dead a little more than 10 years prior to his TV appearance.

He glanced back at the recording of Jackson's brief and very one-sided battle. He watched the spears of metal collide with the ground at such a speed that he had to mentally reclassify them as kinetic energy weapons. He'd hacked a SHIELD satellite to scan for abnormal energy readings and had come up dry. At the very least he'd been expecting a distortion in the magnetic field, similar to the effects of Magneto's powers. Norman Osborn was simply at a loss.

"Scouting some new talent?" Bullseye asked from the doorway to Osborn's office.

"Yes." Osborn replied, immediately seizing on the idea of bringing Jackson Owens under his command. It hadn't occurred to him before because he'd been angry and the Thunderbolts were usually former criminals trying to work off a prison sentence. But once Bullseye had suggested it he saw no reason he couldn't recruit the boy. Dead man or not, everyone was vulnerable with the right kind of leverage. He could even go to the trouble of framing Jackson and having him arrested before making the offer. Tempting as it was to ruin the boy's life out of petty spite, there were easier ways to get what he wanted. "Would you ask Songbird to come to my office?"

"Ah, going right to the mind control. Better hope he never finds out. The kid has decent aim." The assassin commented.

"What makes you say that?"

"He made it rain metal and the news hasn't reported a single death or serious injury. That means his aim was good enough that he didn't hit any has one of those annoying conscience things that Songbird keeps griping about." Bullseye left to go find his teammate. But his comment about conscience gave Osborn another idea. He uploaded the interview onto a program that would read body language and micro expressions. Time to see just how honest Jackson Owens was on that interview.

#

Sean sat drinking tea in a park and reading the newspaper. A beautiful red headed woman with green eyes sat next to him. "How are you dear?" she asked in an Irish accent. She kissed him on the cheek, and leaned in close to him.

"Better now that you're here, love." He replied in even a stronger Irish accent. He put down his paper and tea on his other side. "Thank you for coming, Lyja," he whispered as he put his arm around her and bent to kiss the top of her head. No one would be able to see his lips move. There was no passion in his kiss, or hers for that matter. But someone from a distance would not be able to tell the difference, and no one was around them.

She laid her head against the rest side of his chest, such that her hair fell across her face. No one could now read her lips either. "That was pretty clever, imprinting a message onto the credit card. I was the only person who could possibly have noticed it. How did you know I would recognize it?"

"A hunch. You're a shapeshifter. You're skin is more pliable and you have to have more sense of what shape it is than a human. Words impressed into your skin would last a bit longer due to your skin being more pliable, plus due to your greater senses regarding it, you'd have a chance to know what words pressed into it said."

"Well, a message stating that, 'We stop Skrulls. North CP. 7:47," was enough to get my attention. Just who are you?"

"A recently retired SHIELD agent and an ally of Nick Fury. I only have a rough idea of what's coming. I'm guessing you know more."

"How can I trust you?"

"Valid question. Because madam, unlike you, I bleed red." He felt her tense slightly at the statement. "You'll find a knife in a scabbard on my belt. You're covering it. No one will see you remove it. Stab me with it. That'll give you your proof."

"You want me to stab you?"

"I'll be fine. But please don't make it too deep. Too much blood will be noticeable and I may not be able to stop myself from yelling out in pain. Also, be careful yourself. That knife is adamantium and sharp enough to cut through steel."

He gave a sharp intake of breath as the knife bit into him. She covered it by kissing him full on the lips. She did as he wished though, and didn't stab him very deeply. She returned the knife to his scabbard as she again rested her head on his chest. There was a smudge of red on her thumb. She wiped onto her pants.

"So you're human," she whispered, "and you trust me enough to stab you. Why is that, and what does that really prove to me?"

"The answer to both is Johnny Storm. I trust you because you love him, and while it may not be proof, we both know that you have a better chance of saving him with help."

"And someone with a healing factor and a knife that can cut through invulnerable Skrulls would make a good ally?"

"Points for being able to see the big and small picture. Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"The problem is that I don't really know that much. I'm just supposed to blow up the Baxter building." There was a note of despair in her voice.

"So they did contact you."

"Yes, just a couple of days before you."

"One of the customers in the store was a Skrull."

"I suspected that they have been watching me. But I've been on Earth longer than any of them. I was able to give them the slip without appearing to try to."

"Good." Sean was quite a moment. "We'll have to capture one to get more information." She stiffened under his arm. "It won't be any that are near you. That might tip them off. I shouldn't even need your help in the capture, but I may need your help in the interrogation. I am not all that knowledgeable about Skrulls." He paused, thinking. "When are you supposed to blow up the Baxter building?"

"In three weeks." Again, the despair entered her voice.

"Don't worry. We'll find another way. You won't have to kill the Fantastic Four." He squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring manner. "It'll be okay, Lyja. Can you meet me at this address in a couple of days?" He slipped her a piece of paper.

"Alright."

"Be sure to come alone. And you really should read that book."

She got up off of the bench. "You sure are a strange one," she whispered as she kissed him on the lips. "I'll see you later." She smiled and walked away.

Sean smiled back at her as she walked way, playing his part. Then he picked up his paper, tucked it under one arm, took his tea, and left in the opposite direction. He had an alien abduction to plan.

#

If Osborn could have seen what Jackson did to the Skrull he wouldn't have needed to rely on a computer to divine the young man's moral disposition. Over the course of the night he'd engaged in a process of trial and error to learn about Skrull anatomy, specifically where their nerve clusters were. He talked with his prisoner all the while, both to interrogate him and to break him down on an emotional level. Jackson had once watched a video by some British guy who claimed that torture didn't work. The truth was that it worked, in conjunction with several other things. Torture without proper psychological manipulation was just petty violence. The pain and fear involved in torture were just tools to be used in order to break the will and drive of the victim so they wouldn't be able to resist manipulation.

"So, give me a hand with some feedback. Does it hurt more when I do this?" Jackson twisted an implement buried in the Skrull's kneecap eliciting a choked scream. "Or when I do this?" He stuck his thumb into a cut just under the alien's sternum and pressed on the cracked bone. This time no sound came out. The Skrull just turned a darker shade of green and shuddered. "Interesting. I'll have to record this for after we've curbstomped your invading army. I'm sure what few people you manage to kill will have loved ones who want revenge." The Skrull looked like it was about to pass out so Jackson let the barbed piece of metal in its' leg go back to nonexistence. The wound vanished along with the weapon, as was the case with his power. "Stay with me. We still have so much to talk about."

"Nothing to say." The alien muttered in Skrullese. That earned him a deft blow across the face.

"English." Jackson held up his hand and formed a spiked metal gauntlet around it. "Or I'll have to stop asking nicely." It was a tiny concession. That was the way to start an effective interrogation. Most prisoners started with an inflexible position. Erode that position little by little and eventually you'd start getting the things you wanted. That was the basic idea behind any interrogation. The torture was just a way to speed that process up.

"I won't betray my Queen." It said. Jackson smiled widely in triumph. So there was a Skrull queen leading this invasion.

"I'm not asking for you to do that. I just want to hear your side of this. Why invade the Earth? Doesn't the Empire have a dozen habitable planets already?"

"Eat _kravk_ , human." The metal gauntlet colliding with the Skrull's skull splashed droplets of green blood all over the motel wall.

"Now that was rude. I guess I'll have to educate you so you can better integrate into human society." Jackson made a show of considering that thought then shook his head. "Nah, I'm just gonna keep hitting you stop annoying me."

#

"You wanted to see me?" Melissa Gold, AKA Songbird, asked as politely as she could. She had a healthy distaste for Norman Osborn. That might have been a little hypocritical since her past misdeeds were not any less heinous than his, but she still thought of him as a full-on villain.

"Yes. Ms. Gold, I need you to make a recruiting pitch to a prospective Thunderbolt."

"Since when do we need a recruitment pitch?"

"Since I decided we need a few new members who haven't been incarcerated. And since you're the only member of the team who can talk to people without resorting to threats of violence you seem to be the only choice for the job."

"And I should be willing to do this because…?"

"Because I said so."

"And that line worked out so well for you in the past." Songbird turned to leave.

"Alright." Osborn conceded. "I think this potential recruit is a disaster waiting to happen. It would be better if he was here where people capable of shutting him down can keep an eye on him." Melissa stopped but didn't turn back around. That was not the argument she'd expected to hear. "I watched his interview. As far as I can tell the young man is a clinical sociopath. He's acting like a hero because he thinks it will get him something, not because he genuinely cares about the people he's saving." That was a half-truth. Osborn did indeed see signs of Anti-Social Personality Disorder but the short video hadn't shown full blown sociopathy or psychopathy. "You need to bring him to us by any means necessary."

"Great, another ticking time bomb." She muttered. But, assuming Osborn wasn't lying, he did have a point. Better to have some watchful eyes on a potential disaster before it happened than have to clean up the bodies afterword.

"I do mean by any means necessary. Even if you have to mess with his head." Osborn clarified.

"I'll see what I can do. Just tell everyone I'm bringing home a guest."

#

"I told you only to call this number if you had something important." Nick Fury growled quietly.

"I think you'll want to hear this." Jackson held the phone up to the captured Skrull's mouth. "Tell him what you told me." Fury heard whimpering noises and a sharp cry of pain before a deeper voice than Jacksons' started speaking.

"My Queen has brought us to this world because it was prophesied that this planet would be our new homeworld. The Skrulls that are here are what remains of the Empire after the wave of darkness consumed our worlds. Please just kill me." Fury heard the shuffling sound of a phone being adjusted against someone's ear.

"That's what I've got so far." Jackson said.

"What was that last part he said?"

"Just a side-effect. Nothing to worry about. Don't get all Fury-ous about it." Fury groaned at the pun. "I think that's all this guy actually knows. But, just in case, where should I drop this very cooperative Skrull?" before Fury could answer there was a knock on the motel door.

"What's that?"

"Probably the motel owner again, looking for another bribe. Just give me a minute to take care of it and I'll call you back." Jackson put the phone down on the bedside table, one of the few clean spots left in the room. He opened his wallet and unlocked the door. Instead of the old, really skinny guy he'd bribed twice already there was a woman with red and white hair. He had to stop and blink for a moment. She was dressed in some kind of tight suit surrounded by a metal harness, indicating that she was a superhero of some sort.

While Jackson was examining his unexpected guest, Melissa Gold, AKA Songbird, was staring at the greenish fluid staining his hands, face, and shirt. "Are you Jackson Owens?" she asked.

"Probably." He responded. She stared at the money in his hand, several hundred dollar bills. "Are you here about the robot thing?"

"Yes. What did you think I was here about?" she nodded at the money.

"I was expecting someone else. I'm pleasantly surprised, Ms…?"

"I'm Songbird. I'm here on behalf of Norman Osborn and the Thunderbolts."

"Terrible name for a band. Especially since you lead with 'Norman Osborn'." Jackson said as an offhand comment. Then his scattered brain seized on the name Thunderbolts. "What do the world's premier ex-con superteam want with me?"

"Can I come in?" she asked. The manic smile on Jackson's face froze in place. Crazy he might be but even he knew that a tortured, broken Skrull was not something a superhero would take in stride. But on the other hand he couldn't erase his instruments and tools because that would restore the Skrull's physical health. Even bolted to the wall he might be able to escape.

"Of course. Sorry if the place is a mess." Songbird walked in and saw the tortured Skrull pinned to the back wall and the drying green liquid smeared that moment her choice was made. Seeing that broken creature let her accept that the lying bag of scum that called itself Norman Osborn might be telling the truth. This guy had answered the door with a smile on his face after torturing a sentient being. "I was just about to clean up and drop this terrorist off with SHIELD."

"Terrorist?" she asked, for the moment concerned with making it out of that room without violence.

"Well, someone who was in the midst of planning a terrorist attack. He snuck in here to kidnap or kill me and walk around with my face, just waiting for the signal to help tear down the world's infrastructure. Isn't that right, Kaigor?" Songbird watched the Skrull shudder and nod his head.

"Who was going to signal him?" she asked, both intrigued and horrified that the Skrull wasn't dead from all the injuries inflicted on it.

"Kaigor, answer the beautiful woman." Jackson said.

"My Queen will lead the faithful to conquest." He said weakly.

"There you have it." Songbird turned back to Jackson in time to see him throw a handaxe past her and into the Skrull's face. She reacted immediately and hit Jackson with a wave of sonic energy that knocked him halfway into the next room over. She turned back to check on the Skrull.

"What the heck?" Kaigor the Skrull was lying face down in the shag carpeting, alive and physically unharmed, but completely unconscious.

"Nice shot." Jackson laughed. "I like a woman who voices her opinions." He pulled himself out of the broken drywall and brushed dust from his vest and shirt. "But do you really want to play with me?" Jackson had seemed a little off when she'd first met him but now he looked almost inhuman. Sure he hadn't changed physically but the feeling she got from him tripped the primitive instinct that all humans had buried in the back of their brains. That mind-numbing and paralyzing fear of the incomprehensible. It was the same thing that made people afraid of the dark or deep water. Looking at Jackson's wide eyes and deranged smile gave Songbird the same feeling, like there was something huge and unimaginably dangerous hiding behind the appearance of a twenty-something man in a suit.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot." She started.

"Too late for that now." Jackson advanced a step and Songbird called up her wings so she could be ready to guard at a moment's notice.

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd killed him." She said taking a step back.

"I'm not sorry." Jackson took another step forward. Songbird got ready to blast him again, much harder this time. Jackson lifted a hand, preparing to attack. Then the tension was shattered by Jackson's ringing cell phone. "Well, that killed the mood. Just a sec." He picked up the phone and answered it. Songbird was hesitant to relax but the feeling she'd been drowning in just a moment ago had vanished entirely. "Hello?"

"Change of plans Owens. I just got a tip that Norman Osborn is looking to recruit you for the Thunderbolts." Jackson looked back at Songbird.

"Really?"

"Yes. And I want you to go along with it. Not just because of Skrull infiltration but because Osborn is a clinical psychopath working with a group of more of the same. If he offers you a spot I want you to take it."

"Can I keep the pay?" Jackson asked. He didn't really care but he wanted to do something to trip Nick Fury up for a moment.

"Sure. Just remember why you're there."

"Right. For the Stars and Stripes and apple pie." Jackson hung up. "You said you were here on behalf of Osborn and his team?" he asked.

"Yeah." She didn't deactivate her wings. If anything she pulled them further around her for protection.

"Don't worry, the moment passed." Jackson sat on the bedside table. "Why are you here?" he prompted.

"Osborn wanted me to invite you to join our team."

"I accept. Now, take me to your leader." She gave him a flat look. He sighed in feigned exasperation. "Nobody appreciates the classics anymore."

#


	2. Chapter 2

Secret Invasion Chapter 2

A man in a trench coat and fedora knocked on an apartment door. There was some murmured conversation inside and a few moments later a man wearing a robe opened it a crack, with the chain across. "Yes?"

"Dr. Pym?"

"Yes? Who are you?"

"I'm here in regards to your relationship to your wife. My name is Sean O'Mally."

"Are you a lawyer?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes. I have some papers for you to look over."

"Geez she moves fast. She only left last week."

Yes, well. May I come in?"

"Well, I'm a little…indisposed at the moment."

"I'm sure your indisposition is an understanding woman. I won't be in London long and would like to get this done."

Dr. Pym's expression soured. "Fine. Make it quick."

"Gladly." Sean entered the apartment after Dr. Pym unchained the door.

Sean opened a briefcase and handed Dr. Pym a large file. A woman entered from the bedroom, tightening a robe. Sean gave Dr. Pym a look.

"What's going on Hank?" she asked.

"This is Janet's lawyer. He brought some paperwork for me to sign."

"Actually, sir. I never said I was her, your wife's," again he gave Dr. Pym a look, "lawyer. I just said I was one, which is true. Also, I didn't say I had anything for you to sign. I just wanted you to look over those documents, before I left London, and to get this done as fast as possible."

"Then why are you here?" demanded Dr. Pym with some anger and confusion.

"Please, just look at the documents, sir." Dr. Pym started to look through the file. "You will see there how you almost immediately picked up this cheap floozy from a bar. Well, actually she picked you up, but she made it to appear to you that it was your idea. The pictures make it pretty clear." Dr. Pym was too shocked and angry to even answer.

"HOW DARE YOU COME HERE AND…" began the woman.

Suddenly Sean had a pistol pointed at her. "Not a word, Skrull." He didn't even look at her. He was still facing Dr. Pym. "Please. Keep reading. Page 12 should be especially enlightening."

Dr. Pym looked from Sean's face, to the gun, to the woman, and back to the pages. "What is this supposed to prove to me?"

"Minimally, doctor? That she's not who she says she is, and is an agent of some sort. You saw the pictures of where she met with her handler. At most? That she's a Skrull agent, I just saved you, and we're all in a lot of trouble."

"Hank, you can't be believing this?" the woman pleaded.

Sean pulled the hammer back on his pistol, but otherwise ignored her. He kept his eyes fixed on Dr. Pym. "Honestly, doctor. I couldn't believe how fast you defiled yourself with another woman. Your wife has a drinking problem, so you piss her off, and she leaves. You immediately go after anyone who'll have sex with you? And you're supposed to be a hero."

"Says the man holding a gun to an unarmed woman," Dr. Pym said defensively.

"Oh, she's a Skrull. Believe me." For the first time Sean turned to her. "Now then, there are two ways we can do this. You shift and show him you're a Skrull, and you get to live. You don't play nice, and I'll kill you. Your corpse will shift back anyways. Either way, your mission is a failure, and there's one less mole."

She looked between Sean and Dr. Pym, fear and confusion filling her face. Then it all melted away, leaving an angry arrogance. "It's not like that little pistol could hurt me anyways. I'll just have to take you both out."

Her limbs elongated and thickened with muscles. She lunged forward, flames leaping from her hands. Sean dropped the pistol to the floor, knives sprang into his hands from his sleeves. He threw them into her feet, pinning her into the floor.

She screamed out in pain, falling forward. She looked at the knives in anger and confusion. She then looked at Sean, murder in her eyes. She ripped the knives out and hurled them back at Sean.

Sean dodged one, but caught the other in his forearm before it could hit Dr. Pym. There was a metallic noise as the knife deflected off. Sean threw off his trench coat. The hole in his shirt sleeve revealed the armor underneath. He also had a plethora of knives strapped around him. He drew two more, and struck a fighting pose.

#

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Sean opened it, again wearing his trench coat. A woman was in the doorway looking at him with a confused expression. "Ah, Mrs. Pym. Do come in."

She eyed the wreckage in the apartment as she entered. "What happened here? Who are you?"

"Well, it's all a long story. But the recent events are that your husband decided to have an affair in your absence, and wouldn't you know it? The woman turned out to be a Skrull." Sean finished cleaning green blood off of a knife and it disappeared into his trench coat. "Although, really, he shouldn't have been all that surprised. Any woman willing to have sex outside of marriage has something wrong with her. At a basic level she is ignorant of some morality, or she may be a Skrull." Sean smiled at her in a pleasant manner, as if he were stating that weather that coming weekend was going to be good. "Oh, and the same goes for men of course." He put away another freshly cleaned knife. "But then, you already know about affairs?"

"Where is Hank?"

"Oh, your husband is in the next room guarding the Skrull." Sean pointed with another green tinged knife. "I'm trying to clean up out here, and clarify to all the neighbors what all the noise was about."

Mrs. Pym eyed him with no small bit of concern and slowly walked towards the bedroom. Inside she found her husband, a bit worse for the wear in regards to his nerves, guarding something resembling a green tinged woman with lots of bandages, wearing a tattered robe. She was bound hand and foot.

"Hank?"

"Janet?!" He stood up in a rush.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, um. A lot has happened, and… I… I need to apologize to you. After you left… I made a very bad choice, and… I cheated on you." She looked at him impassively. "I'm terribly sorry. I.." He stopped speaking, not knowing what else to say.

She slowly nodded. "We worked through my… mistake… with Clint. We'll work through this. But I think…" She exhaled. "I think we're going to need some time apart. I at least need a couple of days to digest all of this."

"We may not have that." Sean was in the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Skrulls are invading, and our pickup is here. Mrs. Pym, you'll have to leave. We need to make this look like their agent was successful. I'll be taking… her? Geez this shapeshifting thing makes pronouns hard. I'll be taking the agent with me, making it appear that… the agent has replaced Dr. Pym and killed me. You will leave, pretending to still be estranged from your husband and making it appear that you are none the wiser that he has been removed. Neither of you can tell anyone of this. Report to me any suspicious behavior that you encounter, or if you need help." He handed them a sheet of paper with a phone number on it. "Now we need to go. This apartment isn't being watched that closely. They had an agent inside after all. But your visit will have attracted attention."

Mrs. Pym was disturbed by the suddenness of it all, but she nodded and left. Sean answered a call on his phone. "Understood." He pocketed his phone as he hefted the Skrull over one shoulder. He carried the Skrull into the living room.

There was a knock on the door. "Please get the door, Dr. Pym. If it's a man in overalls, let him in. If not, run back for the bedroom." Sean set the Skrull down by the couch and began removing the cushions.

Dr. Pym checked the peep hole and opened the door. A roundish man with a dirty hat, two days beard, and overalls nodded to him. "Afternoon, sir. I'm here to help move the furniture."

"Ah, yes, of course. Come in." Dr. Pym, wore a confused look as he closed the door behind the moving man.

"You're late, doctor," said Sean as flopped the Skrull into the couch. He began putting the cushions back over the body.

"Sorry," said the moving man body. "Took me awhile to find a place to park the truck."

"Alright, well grab an end."

They picked up the couch. "What am I supposed to do now?" asked Dr. Pym.

"I told you. Try to act normal. She would have. The Skrulls will get into contact with you. I'll feed you whatever information I can to help you with appearing to be one of their agents. You in turn must tell me everything that you notice." Dr. Pym looked extremely nervous. "Don't look so worried, doctor." Sean smiled at him. "We just stopped them from replacing one of our key scientists with one of their agents. That's a pretty good day." He nodded towards him and hauled the couch out the door as Dr. Pym opened it.

#

Songbird wasn't usually much for small talk but, by some kind of black magic, Jackson had managed to engage her in conversation for the jet ride back to Thunderbolt Mountain. Granted most of the conversation was based around bashing Norman Osborn. "Really? I always thought it was a wig." Jackson said.

"No, it's his real hair. I found that out when he went nuts and tried to kill all of us."

"What a great boss, I can already tell I'm going to love my job. Why did I agree to this again?" Jackson quipped.

"No idea. But it was either that or I arrest you for being an unregistered superhuman."

"Hey, I tried to get registered. But after the third government bureaucrat told me that I was dead I kind of gave up."

"About that. How did you get yourself legally declared dead?"

"I didn't. I woke up in a morgue drawer with a toe tag. It's not my fault no one changed the paperwork after my corpse got up and walked out of the city morgue."

"You actually died? I'm sorry, I didn't know that."

"It was the bombing at the mutant rally against registration in New York ten years ago. My family was there with me and the blast killed everyone. Never figured out who was responsible for that one." He said it lightly but he refuse to make eye contact with Songbird when he said it.

"That's horrible."

"Eh." Jackson wave his hand in a "so-so" motion. "By the standards of Africa or North Korea it wasn't that horrible. The sucky part is that I'm still here." Jackson's wide eyes drooped down and for the first time since she'd met him Songbird felt like she was interacting with an actual human being. He looked and felt like a very tired young man.

"Why is it bad that you're here? Isn't it a good thing that you're still alive?" she asked, moved to pity. That pity disappeared when Jackson's manic expression returned. Those too-wide eyes and that arrogant smile effectively masked any trace of weakness or humanity in Jackson Owens.

"Do you think it's a good thing?" The cabin of the jet suddenly felt far too small. Songbird unconsciously moved away from her potential teammate before he turned the crazy back down to a bearable level. "So, who else is on this team? Anyone I should worry about?"

"Worry about everyone. We're all criminals and most of us are murderers."

"Any immortals?"

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Is there anyone there who can't be killed?" Jackson's tone dipped slightly into condescension, as if he was explaining something to a child who was pestering him.

"Uh, no?"

"Good. I don't get along well with immortals. Screws with the pecking order."

"Pecking order?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ah, I see I'm going to need to establish one when I get there. No worries, I think you know where you stand without getting into a fight." Songbird was growing increasingly worried. She was delivering a figurative bomb to Thunderbolt Mountain.

#

Sean swung up into the cab of the moving truck. The 'moving man' was behind the wheel. He started up the truck and pulled out into traffic. "Won't those watching find it strange that we only loaded a couch?"

"There's another truck coming in ten minutes to deliver another couch."

"What if she wakes up back there?"

"Then she can have the couch." Sean rapped a knuckle on the wall separating the cab and the back of the truck. "It's reinforced. She won't be getting out. It's also sound proofed. No one will be hearing her either. No one saw which apartment we pulled this couch out of, so they don't have to wonder about where the next one goes, and they'll just assume I'm either one of the other tenants or somehow connected to them."

"You think of everything."

"No, but hopefully of enough things."

#

"Jackson Owens, my name is Norman Osborn. Pleasure to meet you." The leader of the Thunderbolts extended a hand in greeting. Jackson smiled and reached his own out to shake it. Osborn jerked his hand back when his instincts screamed at him not to touch that apparently ordinary hand. Jackson's smile didn't falter but he tilted his head in silent question. "Sorry. I've always been a bit of a germaphobe. Apparently I'm not over it yet. Now, I've asked Moonstone to show you around and help you settle into your quarters." Songbird leaned closer to Jackson and whispered three words.

"Don't trust anyone."

"Aren't you the trusting soul." Jackson quipped. He glanced at the doorway when Moonstone entered. She was dressed in a tank-top and jeans. Jackson made a show of looking her up and down. "Well hello beautiful." The woman didn't flinch at the open leering. Instead she smiled at the newcomer. Even Jackson could tell that the smile was fake.

"Hello. Shall we take a walk?" Jackson walked beside her through the very functional halls of the mountain base. He made small talk with Moonstone as they walked and he quickly realized that she was doing a very subtle psych evaluation. "Do you have any family who will be visiting you here? I'm only asking because there are forms you need to complete before any such visits."

"Nah. They're all dead. How about you, any family?" Jackson said, turning the question around.

"Not for some time."

"What about the people closest to you? Are you sure they're safe?" Moonstone stopped walking.

"Are you threatening me?"

"What? No nononono." Jackson held up his hands placatingly. Then he tilted his head and pretended to think about it. "Maybe. I'm not really sure myself sometimes. Do I get a roommate?"

"No. You have your own personal room."

"Can I get a kitten? I feel like I might get a bit lonely by myself. Unless you want to keep me company?"

"You can have a pet. And you can also take a sexual harassment training course." She handed him a booklet. "Before someone here kills you."

"Promises, promises. When do I get to meet the rest of the team?"

"Immediately after this tour. You will also be asked to give us a general overview of your capabilities. We need to know how to work with you as a teammate."

"I can tell you exactly how. Stay out of my way."

"That is very confrontational and unproductive. You really should attempt to be more personable." Jackson stepped in front of Moonstone faster than she would have believed an ordinary human being could move. He looked her dead in the eyes and smiled too widely.

"Are you a shrink?"

"I have a doctorate in psychology." She said, recognizing his intimidation tactics for what they were.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Jackson laughed.

"Have you recently suffered any head trauma? Or possibly been exposed to mind-altering drugs?"

"Possibly. I mean, if I had any of that happen I probably wouldn't remember. But it doesn't matter, neither of those things can kill me." Jackson dropped back behind Moonstone and motioned for her to lead on. She didn't. Instead she simply stood and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't she lowered herself to asking him to do so. He tilted his head and thought about it for a moment. "Showing is faster than telling." He held out a hand and Moonstone noticed that he had a revolver. She blinked, her nearly perfect recall telling her that he hadn't been holding a gun just a moment ago. But her eyes insisted it was there and her ears confirmed it when he cocked the hammer back. Her eyes went wide when she saw him put the barrel to his temple and pull the trigger.

The scene seemed to play out in slow motion, the hammer falling on the cartridge, the bullet propelling the soft tissue of his brain into the opposing wall. But his body didn't fall down. He stood there holding the smoking gun, as if he hadn't just blown a quarter of his skull off. Then the gun and the wound, even the gore painting the wall, vanished as if they had never existed. "Tadaaaaaaa! Want to sit down for a therapy session now?"

"Very much, but that will have to wait. Here is your room." Moonstone, feeling a little queasy, opened the door on a sparsely furnished room. Jackson leaned in to examine the room and put his hand on Moonstone's shoulder. When his hand made contact with her skin she felt the nausea surge up too strongly to be resisted. She leaned away from the door, and away from Jackson's hand, and vomited on the floor. When she was done she noticed that Jackson had walked away. He wasn't in his room and she couldn't see him in the hallway. "A person could really learn to hate that man."

#

They arrived at a warehouse, and drove in.

Sean got out and closed the doors. "This warehouse district is all but abandoned after the shipyard it was owned by closed. We shouldn't be bothered here."

He flipped on the lights, revealing a small group of people lounging on some nearby crates. "Welcome, and thank you for being prompt." Sean showed no surprise at their sudden appearance.

"What's this all about?" asked a grey haired man wearing glasses despite the dimness of the warehouse.

"In short, we're being invaded by Skrulls, Clay."

Clay snorted. "If that's true then it's a job for the Avengers or some other group of capes."

"Well, normally, that would be true. But in this case they're being replaced with Skrulls."

There was an uneasy silence. By this time the 'moving man' had stepped to Sean's side.

"I suppose you have proof for all of this?" asked a man with two revolvers strapped to his hips.

"I do indeed, Mr. Slade." Sean turned to the 'moving man.' "If you would, Dr. Nemesis."

The doctor nodded as Sean went towards the back of the truck. He flung the doors open, revealing a half crazed Skrull with burning hands amidst the ruins of a burning couch. "I'LL KILL ALL OF…"

 _Pfft pfft._ Her cry was cut off as Dr. Nemesis fired two rounds from a strange looking pistol at her. "She'll be unconscious for a number of hours," he said as he holstered his weapon.

There was a stunned silence. Half drawn weapons were tucked back away. "Holy crap…" said another man standing next to Clay.

"Indeed, Mr. Bourne," said Sean.

"What's your play here?" asked a young woman.

"We're going to stop them," answered Sean simply.

Clay laughed at him in a mocking tone. "Sure, sure. The seven of us? Against an invading army?"

Sean looked hard at him. "Let me explain how this will work. Dr. Nemesis here is a genetic expert, among other things. He is going to analyze our friend in the truck, figure out what makes them able to disguise themselves well enough to replace people better than they ever have before. Then we're going to fight them when all the shooting starts."

"That's it?" asked Mr. Slade incredulously. "We're just going to beat them? How many are coming?"

"We don't know. We'll interrogate our capture, and she'll have an idea as to what is coming." Sean pointed to a man standing with the group that hadn't spoken to yet.

"Is that…?" started Dr. Nemesis.

"Yes, doctor. That's your normal Skrull to compare against whatever they did to this one. Lyja, would you please revert to your normal form?" asked Sean.

She looked around her for a moment and then transformed into her green skin. The group was taken aback.

"And that's what we're up against gentlemen…oh, and Glitch." She nodded towards him in recognition. Sean sat on a nearby crate calmly and continued. "They can look like anyone, match their voice patterns, mannerisms, and have intimate knowledge of personal details of people. And that's not even the worst of it. If the one in the truck is any example, they've been modified to have various and multiple superpowers. But we've got some advantages."

"Which are?" asked Mr. Bourne.

"They don't know that we know. That's a sizeable one right there. I can recognize them in certain situations, and we're not important to replace." Sean said with a lopsided smile.

"You're saying that only the big time capes are being replaced? So we can trust one another?" asked Clay, not buying it.

"No on both accounts," said Sean. "I don't know who all is being replaced. I wouldn't just replace the capes if it were me. I'd replace people in powerful positions, presidents, etc. I would replace the people close to those I couldn't easily replace, friends, family, butlers… In short anyone could be a Skrull. But not us. We're nobodies. We're not close to anyone important. Well except for Lyja, but we'll get to that later." Sean waved his hand dismissively. "We're not important enough to replace. But that doesn't mean we can trust each other. We can only trust each other to behave as we usually would, to be ourselves as it were."

"Alright, say we buy all that. How can you recognize Skrulls when no one else seems to be able to?"

"I can recognize Skrulls because there's a lot more to being human than looking like us. A human shapeshifter never quite gets it right. Sure, they could be mistaken for someone if you're not paying attention, but they never move quite the right way. Their gait is off, they tilt their head too much… the thousand little details that make us individuals. They can't get them all. I notice that. I've had a lot of practice with people. Alien shapeshifters are even worse at mimicking humans."

"So you claim. But why should we trust you, much less take orders from you?"

"Because Mr. Clay, I'm your best chance at defeating the army that's coming." He flicked out a knife seemingly from nowhere. "And because if self preservation and the good of humanity aren't enough reasons," he struck knife into the crate he was sitting on and pried open the side, "I am willing to pay your weight in gold."

The crate fell open revealing gold bars stacked neatly inside, from top to bottom.

There was stunned silence at the wealth. Mr. Slade, the least impressed broke the silence first. "Who are you?"

"No one of significance. Or this plan wouldn't work."

Glitch was the next to pry her eyes away from the gold. "But what's my role in this? You're going to fight a war. I understand needing the soldiers and even maybe the cowboy," she said as she gave Mr. Slade a look, "but why me?"

Sean smiled at her. "My guess is that the Skrulls are taking the people that they've replaced and hiding them somewhere."

"So?" she asked.

"They're aliens. It's probably a ship. You're a thief." He smiled, fingering an electronic device. "I want you to steal it."

#

Norman Osborn watched the unsuccessful suicide attempt on the security monitor. He'd believed that Jackson Owens was simply another mindless thug, easily manipulate for gain. He'd known he'd made a mistake the moment he'd nearly shook the thing's hand. Now, watching the monster blow its' own head off to no lasting effect, he began wondering just how fatal his mistake might prove. With a touch Jackson sent Moonstone into a heaving fit and walked off screen. Yup, things were going downhill fast.

His attention was pried away from Jackson Owens by an impact or explosion that sent a slight tremor through the entire underground structure and set off the alarm. He scanned the security cameras again and found the source of the disturbance. Captain Marvel had literally gatecrashed Thunderbolt Mountain and was proceeding to wreck the place.

"This day seems determined to try my patience." He pressed the intercom button. "All Thunderbolts, we have an intruder at the north entrance. Take care of it."

#

A couple of hours later, Dr. Pym pushed the button on the electronic device. On the floor of his apartment lay a battered body identical to his own.

No more than two minutes later, a SHIELD security team entered the apartment. Their faces were tense. Upon seeing the body on the floor, they seemed to relax. As the fourth of their group entered and closed the door. Their leader made a silent gesture.

Dr. Pym nodded and spoke in the Skrull language quietly, "The apartment is secure."

"You know we are not to use our tongue until after the battle," returned the SHIELD agent in English, "even in a supposedly secure location."

"Forgive me," Dr. Pym said in English. "He is ready for pick up."

The SHIELD agent eyed Dr. Pym curiously, then motioned his men to pick up the body on the floor. "Very well. Success in your mission."

"As He wills."

The SHIELD agents headed back out the door after checking that no one was in the hall, with two of them carrying an unconscious Dr. Pym. They immediately headed for the stairwell. They exited on the roof. There was a ship hovering there, but all that could be seen of it was the lowered ramp. They entered the ship.

As soon as the ramp was raised, Dr. Pym shrank in their arms. "Get…!" began the lead SHIELD agent as Clay, Solo, Sean, and Rider stepped into the entryway and gunned them all down. As they fell they turned back into Skrulls.

Sean spoke into a microphone. "Lyja, we're going to need you to talk us through flying this thing. We'll be smuggling Dr. Pym back into the apartment soon, but in the meantime play it cool and keep up appearances."

#

Jackson Owens was never someone who cared to take guided tours even before he'd come back from the dead. But hanging around someone as self-obsessed as Moonstone in addition to listening to the rote description of places he was seeing was simply too much. His orders and his own goals were not enough to hold him in bondage to such a boring and tedious situation. No, far better to go his own way when dealing with "reformed" villains. Reformed? As if! Songbird was one thing, even Jackson could see the honest regret and desire for change that drove her actions. But Moonstone and Osborn? No, they stank of corruption. A bit of wry humor colored his expression as he realized how hypocritical it was for him to make that didn't make it any less true, but it was deeply hypocritical.

He didn't get very far before the intruder began demanding his attention. The shaking didn't stop with just the blast that opened a door from the outside. No, as soon as he was inside, Captain Marvel began tearing through walls and tearing out chunks of ceilings and floors to find the Thunderbolts. The noise was horrific for anyone nearby and the vibrations it sent through the base were enough to make one believe there was an earthquake. But, before he went to aid his new team, Jackson had a couple of stops to make.

#

"Chen, we need help over here!" Songbird screamed. Captain Marvel had just finished wrecking Moonstone and Venom had been thrown several miles clear of the base. Bullseye had been knocked out just as the fight had started. All in all, the Thunderbolts weren't doing well and Norman Osborn was unsurprised. No one on his team had the parameters necessary to oppose someone with super-strength, durability, and the ability to absorb and project energy. His point was supported when he saw Radioactive Man get blasted with his own power and take Songbird with him. So if brute force wouldn't work… Osborn grabbed two glasses and a bottle of very expensive wine from a cabinet in his office. Perhaps a little negotiating would do the trick. He glanced at the security feed once more, to make sure the fight was well and truly over so Captain Marvel wouldn't try to kill him on reflex. When he saw Jackson Owens standing there alone he stopped. It might be prudent to see how that would play out.

#

"Wow, you took them all out in less than 10 minutes? I would say that's impressive but nothing fakers do is impressive. Or does Pinocchio think he's a real boy?" Jackson taunted. Marvel clenched his fists and energy gathered around them in a nimbus of sparks. "Oh, don't be mad. I'm just a faker myself. A useless nobody who has never done anything praiseworthy."

"Get out of my way, kid. You're not a criminal so you don't need to die here."

"Criminals? Is that your standard for who needs to die? Now I feel like calling you a fake doesn't do justice to fakes. Even someone as rotten as me knows that good and evil isn't as simple as who broke what laws." Jackson held out his hand, palm up. A sphere of black metal appeared there, hovering just an inch above Jackson's skin. "No, I think you need to learn a hard lesson. Now pay attention." He turned his palm to the flying man. The acceleration of the metal ball was so sudden that Marvel heard the sharp crack of a sonicboom before he saw the path of the projectile. Still, he might have avoided it if he hadn't been so focused on Jackson. The Skrull imitating Captain Marvel had all of his abilities including limited cosmic awareness. He could glean knowledge of his enemies just by thinking about them so long as they were somehow important. It had happened with minimal effort for him against the other Thunderbolts but not for Jackson. It wasn't as though his awareness had failed to identify Jackson as important, but it wouldn't give him any information. The anomaly caused him to be a fraction of a second too late in defending himself and he took a glancing hit along his lower left ribs. The bones shattered into fragments on impact. The damage was so bad that he didn't even feel the pain for several seconds.

"What the hell?" he gasped. Reacting on reflex he blasted Jackson with enough power to cut him in half. The same black sphere intercepted the blast and the energy was scattered. When the glare dimmed the sphere was gone but Jackson was unharmed. The first tendrils of fear crept around Captain Marvel's heart. There was something deeply wrong here, even more wrong than the internal discord he himself had to deal with. Looking at Jackson with his awareness made his stomach twist in nausea and made him break out in a cold sweat. It told him nothing else but that reaction was enough to tell him that Jackson Owens simply shouldn't exist.

Three spheres appeared this time and he dodged them all, firing back at every opportunity. He's absorbed an abundance of energy from the green man so he wasn't in danger of running short but his opponent didn't look wearied by his exertions either. He tried to move in closer but the spheres seemed almost to conspire to ward him away. He increased his speed and barely snuck by unharmed. He slammed a fist into his enemy's chest. He'd expected Jackson to put up some defense or try to dodge. Instead he caught a flash of a twisted smile as Jackson's torso separated from his lower body. The blow, unimpeded, was fast enough to tear the younger man in half. Captain Marvel stopped to gape in horror but when he turned around to look at the gory mess all he saw was Jackson, still fully intact.

"That's impossible!" he shouted, his emotional reaction heightened because he'd actually touched Jackson and felt a much more intense version of what his awareness had been letting him sense.

"I thought I told you, I'm nothing but a fake!" Jackson shot back, eyes bright and wide with maniac glee. With his mind unsettled he didn't anticipate the next attack, and his reliance on his cosmic awareness slowed his reaction even further. A dozen spears made of some pinkish metal he didn't recognize seemed to simply appear beneath him and skewered his limbs. The pain was horrible. The last thing he saw was a look of disappointment on Jackson's face as he swung a blade made of the same metal down at his head.

The spears and dagger vanished along with Captain Marvel's wounds the moment Jackson inflicted a fatal blow. But the pain and the shadow of death knocked the Skrull impersonator unconscious. Jackson still didn't understand why that happened but it seemed to be the one concrete rule of how his powers worked.

#

They soon had Dr. Pym back in his apartment and Lyja on board, now back in her normal form.

"Figure out where this ship is supposed to be and get us there. The last thing we need is the Skrulls noticing that one of their ships is out of place." Sean was a little nervous.

Lyja was reading the ship's log. "Here's the coordinates. That'll put us back into orbit, but first we need to dock with this ship." She pointed to a screen where the Skrull ships could just be seen.

"That must be the prison ship. Everyone ready?" asked Sean.

"We don't know how many Skrulls are there," said Clay.

Sean turned towards him. "No, we don't. But we're the last thing they're expecting, and we have these handy SHIELD uniforms to sneak on board with. Fortunately there aren't too many holes in them."

Sean, Clay, Solo, and Rider dressed as the SHIELD agents. Lyja changed her appearance into Dr. Pym's with the first signs of bruising.

As the ramp lowered, they carried her down. They used her body as best they could to cover up the bullet holes in their uniforms and green blood stains.

There were two Skrulls ready to meet them. "One new inmate," said Sean with all the confidence he could muster.

"It takes four of you to carry him?" asked the guard.

"These Pym particles are heavy, what can I say?"

"Very well. You know the way." He looked back down to a handheld screen he had.

"Yeah," Sean said.

The hanger opened to a hallway going left and right. Sean was hoping he'd guess correctly when Lyja bumped his leg and motioned to the right with her head in a disguised, unconscious roll.

As soon as they turned right and were out of sight of the guards, they let go of Lyja. "It's a standard Skrull design," she whispered. "C'mon, I'll lead you to the bridge." She took the form of a SHIELD agent and began to hurry down the corridor.

"What about communications?" Solo asked.

"Only place for outside communication is the bridge and our ship is in the only hanger."

"Good," said Sean. "Hit them hard, and try not to damage anything."

"Right," said Clay. "A gun fight that doesn't damage anything."

They were nearing the bridge when a passing Skrull called out to them. His face was changing between confusion and accusation. "Your uniforms look awful, and why isn't his sidearm standard SHIELD issue?" He was pointing to Rider's revolvers.

Lyja promptly threw him against a bulkhead and as he fell down, Sean shot him with a suppressed pistol. "Let's go," he said.

Clay swallowed slightly. It wasn't that Sean was cold in the action he had just done, it was how smooth he had been, how practiced. He didn't seem to take any pleasure in killing the Skrull, but he didn't hesitate for even a moment. He was a good soldier, and someone to be feared, respected, and maybe even followed.

The door to the bridge was only another hundred feet down the hall. They took up positions around the door. Sean gave Rider a look. Rider nodded. Lyja crouched in front of the door, gripping the handle. Rider lifted up his pistols and began firing as fast as he could at chest level at the door. The bullets raced towards the door and passed right through, leaving no signs of their passing. Lyja then wrenched the door open as fast as she could just after the first few rounds had entered the room. Solo and Clay each rolled into the room with practiced coordination. They took up posts on opposite sides of the door, adding their own fire. Clay multiplied himself as he shot, creating a whole platoon of himself. Rider's initial shots had caused mostly panic inside the bridge, but had managed to strike a few Skrulls lethally as they were seated at computer consoles. Clay and Solo's fire was more precise since they could actually see their targets. Sean entered after them, firing as he went.

The Skrulls inside were in utter disarray. A few managed to draw weapons, but were quickly gunned down. There had only been eight to begin with on the bridge. "Secure?" asked Sean.

"Secure," said Solo and Clay.

"Okay, you two and Rider, keep this bridge secure. Lock it down and make sure no one gets in." Sean then spoke into his microphone. "Glitch. Lock up the ship. Those guards probably don't know anything is wrong, but I don't want them getting to you before we get to them."

"Understood," she replied.

"Okay, Lyja, you and I will be securing the rest of the ship. You stay behind me. I can take a bullet. You can't. So far we've been lucky and none of the Skrulls have been speaking native, but who knows how long that will last. I may need you to bluff. Do you have a good guess as to where the prisoners are? I want to free them next. We could use the muscle."

"In the center of the ship should be a large cargo area. They might have transformed that to a prison. I can lead us to the closest door, or what should be a door."

"Okay, let's go." Sean turned to Rider. "Lock the door behind us. Solo is in charge."

#

"I don't believe what I'm seeing." Dr. Chen commented when Osborn showed his team the security footage of Jackson's lone battle.

"Yes, that was my first reaction as well. My second thought as that his abilities were some kind of illusion, but the fact that they show up on camera mean that he isn't altering perceptions. And the pain clearly inflicted means that they aren't optical illusions. I can't explain the disappearance of the damage inflicted by his powers either. And this is particularly troubling." Osborn fast forwarded to the part where Jackson was bifurcated.

"You mean the fact that he seems to be unkillable? Yeah, I don't like that much either." Bullseye said.

"No, this is what I mean." He pointed to the expression on Jackson's face just after he reappeared completely unharmed. It was almost inhuman and it inspired both fear and revulsion in the hardened killers that the Thunderbolts was comprised of. Even the Venom symbiote seemed to shudder uneasily. "Moonstone, care to comment?" Osborn asked. She stood and moved closer to the screen. After a very tense moment of silence she turned around.

"Take a good look everyone. This is what we in the profession call a monster."

"Monster?" the voice whipped everyone's head back around to the entrance of the conference room. Jackson was standing there in the open doorway idly flipping a keycard over his fingers. "Are you sure that's really the word you want to use?" He tossed the card into the air and let it fall to the floor.

"Ah, Mr. Owens. Rest assured Moonstone doesn't speak for all of us."

"Really? Maybe she should. Monster works pretty well but it's lacking in depth." He smile that awful smile again. "Don't worry! I may not care much about justice or morality or the innocents being trampled underfoot. But I do know one thing." He paused for dramatic effect. Everyone waited for the monster to finish the small speech, except for Bullseye. He didn't care what was being said, he was checking angled on a killing throw with the pen he'd swiped from Osborn's expensive table. "He loves you all." The Skrull impersonating Jackson Owens let his green skin show before sending a hail of jagged metal fragments at the assembled Thunderbolts. Songbird put up a screen of pink sonic energy to stop the projectiles. Bullseye took the opportunity to send the pen through the false Jackson's neck. That only seemed to annoy the Skrull who put a metal spike through Bullseye's left leg. The beaten and battered Thunderbolts were slow to react and even slower to try counterattacking. The Skrull, using powers similar to Jackson's own, merely had to imagine weapons and they appeared. He sent them into the crumbling wall of sonic force with something like glee. Until a gauntleted hand appeared out of his stomach.

"Nice act, it was perfect right up until that last part." The real Jackson said, having snuck up behind the Skrull and shoved his hand through the alien's lower spine.

"He loves you too." It said through a mouthful of green blood. Jackson's temper flared up and he twisted his hand causing the Skrull to scream in pain.

"I really doubt that." He delivered a metal fisted punch to the back of its' head and it went limp. "I hate liars."

#

Lyja lead Sean into the center of the ship.

"Where are all the Skrulls?" asked Sean. "They have to have guards, crew, something."

"From what little news has filtered to Earth, I doubt there are many Skrulls left. You're not familiar with our tech, but more systems than normal are automated on this ship. I would guess that most of their troops are deployed as spies."

"That would explain why we haven't encountered more agents. Why did no one notice us enter the ship? They must have only had the imposter watching Dr. Pym. No back up, and no one reporting directly to whoever is in charge."

"The queen has to be in charge."

"Who?" Sean shook his head. "Never mind. Explain it to me once we free these guys."

They peered around a corner and there was a large door down a long hallway with two guards. Sean looked towards Lyja. "Tell them to surrender when we get closer," he whispered. "Otherwise, I'll kill them." Lyja nodded minutely. "I'm sorry," he said. "I fear there won't be much of your race left when this is all done."

"That's not your fault. A society built on denying truth can hardly last. But still, I thank you for your sympathy." She smiled weakly at him.

They turned the corner and headed towards the door.

#

Sean opened the door. He and Lyja entered. Inside were all the heroes that the Skrulls had so far replaced. "People, we have a situation."

Sean outlined what had been happening, and what he guessed was going to happen. "So the plan is quite simple. We will wait for when their agents call in. We'll drop in, just like the Skrulls are supposed to, except we'll pick up their agent. We'll inform the person they were supposed to replace and he will pretend to be the Skrull."

"Wait, aren't there a few holes in this plan?" asked Contessa Fontaine.

"Such as?" asked Sean with a raised eyebrow.

"Won't the Skrulls notice that some of their people are missing? Won't they have agents watching their other agents? Surely they'll spot this."

"They haven't so far. No one seemed to be watching their agent or ship that was supposed to get Hank Pym, a clearly important target. I think they are spread pretty thin." He turned to the rest of the group. Most weren't really leaders of the superhero community so they fell in line. The shock of the Skrull plan probably helped as well, not to mention that he had just saved them all.

#

Slowly they picked up the Skrull agents and managed to return many of the heroes. The Skrull dropship was small however and only a few could be returned at a time. Still, to the many heroes that had been returned, it seemed that the Skrull plan was largely backfiring.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sean awoke in a darkened room. "He's awake," someone said.

Immediately a bright light flashed on. "You're a clever one, aren't you?"

All Sean could see was the light. "Not really. I'm just a soldier." He was tied to what felt like a metal chair. He was down to his underwear. That much he could tell.

"Where is Nick Fury?"

"Probably somewhere better than this."

He was struck across the face. "Torturing you will be interesting. You'll heal from whatever we put you through."

"If I had a quarter for every time I heard that…" This time he was hit hard enough to knock him unconscious.

#

Sean awoke with several implements sticking into him. He was strapped to a table. "How do you feel?" asked the Skrull next to him.

Sean was pretty sure his body was in shock. Hopefully it stayed that way. Still the pain was intense. He grunted as a wave hit him.

"Interesting." The alien took a note. "Now let's begin. Where is Nick Fury?"

#

"Why?" asked Sean.

"Excuse me?" asked one of his torturers.

"Why do all of this? You've tried invading the Earth many times. Why again?"

"Because he loves us. And even you."

"He?... Who?"

"Our god." The Skrull put down the shock probe he was holding. "Let me explain it to you. Our god foretold our attack here. He demanded it of us, for the good of all. Whether we succeed or all die in the attempt, it does not matter. It is what he demands of us in exchange for his love."

"That's stupid."

The Skrull looked hard at Sean. "I would think that you would understand. From the little that we have gathered about you, you are of the denomination Catholic. Are you not familiar with the Crusades? There is a great similarity."

"Only for the ignorant. You want to make a comparison of a Holy War? Is that it? You think religion justifies a war? Let me tell you something. The Crusades weren't demanded by our faith. It was asked. It wasn't required. You didn't have to go fight the Muslims or be declared a heretic. Men went for various reasons. Some for faith, some for profit, and some to stop the freaking Muslims who invaded Christian lands. Oh, yes. You want to act as if it was a war we started, and thus make the comparison to the Crusades. In reality, your "holy war" is more like the Muslims who invaded the Christian kingdoms in the Middle East and even into Spain before Europe lifted a finger to do something about it. No, sir. Their prophet demanded it of them, as part of their faith. It is in their texts. So don't be making comparisons between your actions and the Crusades. Unless of course you want to compare yourselves to those Catholic knights who failed in their duty to act as Catholics or knights, who committed the kinds of atrocities as you are, and used religion as a cloak for their malice. Please, your understanding of faith and history is shallow."  
"Our Queen showed us the light after our near destruction! She showed us a path to redemption!"

"So you only turn to your faith after you have exhausted all other options? You make it appear that faith is only for the weak."

"Your own texts say it is for the weak."

"Yes, but not only for them. It is for everyone. All are invited, but you don't invite. You force."

"As has your religion."

"No, never as part of its teaching. Only as part of rogue leaders. It was never a dogma of my faith. Your faith is a poor caricature of religion. You follow it mindlessly, you have a god that demands you work for his love instead of one that loves you anyways and asks for your participation in your redemption, and your religion seems centered around war, intolerance, and hatred for others. How strange that your main tenet seems to be that your god loves everyone."

"Silence! I will hear no more of this blasphemy!" With that the Skrull drove an implement into Sean's chest.

#

Days passed, only marked by the changes in torture techniques. Sean guessed that they're time table was almost up since they're methods seemed to be getting more desperate. He screamed out in pain as they cut off his leg below the knee.

#

He awoke again on the table. No Skrulls seemed near. There were mild explosions in the distance. Suddenly the door was kicked in. A white humanoid walked in. It was difficult to tell if it was a robot or a man in armor.

"Took you…long enough…" Sean wheezed.

"You look like you've taken the worst of the battle."

"Sadly, it wasn't in battle, Rom. They were trying to get information out of me." Rom broke the shackles holding Sean to the table.

"Did you persevere?"

"I believe so. I didn't have the answers to the questions they were asking anyways."

"It was fortunate you had the foresight to call for aid and ingest that transmitter."

"That was our mutual friend's idea. It would appear he was right." Rom helped Sean off the table. His leg wasn't yet completely healed and regrown. "You have to get me back to Earth. I fear our time is short.

"Will you survive the rigors of space?"

"I wasn't sure where I was. Are we far out? How fast can you go?"

"If I proceed with all haste, we shall be within the atmosphere in moments."

"That should be sufficient. Then I have to make some phone calls."

#

There was a knock on the warehouse door. Mr. Slade opened the door a crack. He recoiled in surprise.

"Open up. We've got a problem." Sean stood before him, still just in his underwear with now only six inches of his leg missing, supporting himself with a crutch.

#

"I grow tired of this," complained the Skrull captive.

"You know I can't release you," said Sean. "It would blow my cover." He checked his watch. "These 'interrogation' sessions tire me as well."

There was a knock on the door.

Sean left the interrogation room. Glitch was waiting for him. "There is something you should see out here."

Sean followed her towards the main door of the warehouse. There surrounded by many armed copies of Clay was another Sean.

"He says you're a Skrull," said Rider.

"How typical. Kill him. He's obviously the Skrull. I've been with you for days. When could I have gotten replaced?"

"I have a solution," said the wounded Sean. "If my healing leg isn't proof enough for you, shoot us both. Then we'll find out who is right, and who is dead."

"That will prove nothing," said the other Sean. "The Skrulls could have given him a copy of a healing factor."

"Sounds like you don't have one," said the wounded Sean quietly.

The other Sean's face turned grim. "Clever," came a woman's voice out of the man's body. It shifted into Spider-woman. "Before your demise, I would have you know that your actions were enough to attract even my attention."

"And who would you be?" asked Sean.

"I'm the leader of the Skrull invasion, Queen Veranke. If you surrender now, I may let you live in our new world."

"Not likely," said all of the Clay's in unison. They opened fire on her.

She flew off into the darkness in the ceiling of the warehouse.

The 'captive' Skrull came bursting out of the interrogation room. "FINALLY!" she yelled.

Rom came crashing through the roof and landed on her, taking all the fight out of her. "Must I keep saving you?" Veranke used the opening and distraction to fly out through the hole.

"Very funny. We've got one Skrull on the loose. She claims to be the leader. We need to stop her. And I need some pants."

#

"What are we waiting for?" asked Clay impatiently. "Every second we delay decreases our chances of killing her and stopping the invasion."

Sean, now fully clothed, eyed him with disapproval. "I try to never enter a battle unprepared, and believe me right now we'd lose. Besides, I have another team in pursuit."

The group looked at one another.

"I, for one, would like to know what's been going on," said Rider.

"As would I," said Glitch.

"Alright. I'll explain while I finish getting suited up. Mr. Clay, please contact Mr. Bourne and have him teleport down. That ship isn't doing us any good anymore." Sean placed a large duffel bag on the table that they were standing around. He opened it as he began to explain.

"As you all know I contacted you to offer you a job or to ask for help depending on your situation."

"I just meant I wanted to know where you've been, when you got replaced, and what this other team is that you're talking about," said Rider.

"Yes, I know, but it all bears explaining. Please don't interrupt." Sean placed a plate of armor on his arm and locked it into place. "Now, none of you knew me before. I was given your names by the only man I knew paranoid enough to make a list of candidates for a team in case shapeshifting aliens replaced all the regular heroes."

#

Flashback: Two days after Fury met with Sean

"You're only paranoid if you're wrong, Mr. O'Mally."

"But what do I do, Mr. Wraith?" Sean was standing in a finely furnished office, but not ostentatiously so.

There was a man in a fine suit sitting across from him, behind an oak desk. He was fingering a cane. He was silent a moment. "In my experience, it's generally best to follow Nick Fury's orders."

"Except when he tells you to go on a secret war."

"Well, there was only one infallible human…" Wraith leaned back in his chair. "You're going to need a team. They can't be anyone… well known… important. They have to be unknowns. I can give you a list of potential candidates." He sat forward and smiled. "But there is no man I know of with more experience fighting shapeshifting aliens than Rom the Spaceknight. He owes me a favor. I'll give him a call."

#

"But I could hardly trust random people I'd never met before who were generally motivated by getting paid. Well, except for you, Mr. Slade. So I called up some old military buddies of mine and asked them to be ready. They've currently tracked our missing Skrull to…" He opened a program on a computer monitor. A live video opened up. "Here." There was a moment of silence as they looked at the image. "My recent disappearance was due to being captured on the Skrull spaceship. They somehow whisked me away to some other ship and proceeded to torture me for information. Rom fortunately was able to rescue me. I can only assume that Lyja is still working for the Skrulls or was herself replaced. So if that's all cleared up, back to the matter at hand."

"That's just a house," said Glitch, pointing to the screen.

Sean turned to her. "No, that's a SHIELD safe house. Were you expecting a fortress?"

Clearly not looking please from the explanation, Clay said, "So are we going after her or what?"

Sean put on a helmet with a T visor. "No, we're not. I will deal with the Queen. You will all take up preassigned positions." He pushed a sheaf of papers forward on the table. "I believe the invasion is at hand."

#

The silence in the jet was a reflection of the nervous dispositions of the passengers. They were flying to Washington DC to fight a war against superpowered beings that had infiltrated their government, populace and their own superpowered groups.

"Shouldn't you be giving some kind of motivational speech? Ya know, rally the troops?" Jackson asked Osborn. The director of the Thunderbolts had traded his $5000 suit for a set of tactical armor and some kind of energy weapon. He looked at Jackson placidly and extended a hand to him in an offering gesture.

"If you think that's appropriate, why don't you give a motivational speech?"

"Cool. Listen up everyone!" Jackson said loudly, standing up from his seat. All heads turned to him. He made a show of clearing his throat and straightening his black tie. When he was ready he said, "You're all going to die." Then he sat back down. The words worsened the mood by an order of magnitude, like an oil spill dirtying already polluted water. And it wasn't just what he said, but the malicious glee gave them all the distinct impression that Jackson was very much looking forward to their deaths. Even Bullseye, an admitted psychopath, felt a chill when those words rolled over him.

"You should think about being a motivational speaker." Songbird said dryly.

"Kid, don't take this the wrong way, but you really freak me out." Venom said.

"I'd really like to hear about your childhood." Moonstone added. Jackson favored them all with the same creepy smile and they fell silent. He leaned back in his chair and looked far off into the distance.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

#

Sean drove up the street as quickly as he could without raising suspicion. Although, his 1967 black Mustang with tinted windows wasn't exactly low key. "Are you in position, Mr. Walker?"

John Walker, the U.S. Agent, was waiting in an unmarked van with six other men. "Affirmative. What's the plan?"

"I kick down the door. You cover my butt, and don't get killed."

"Ah, just like old times then. You still got that Adamantium armor?"

"Never leave home without it."

"Heh. Then I'll let you be the living shield."

The safe house was built on a T intersection, facing the oncoming road. It gave the occupants a good view of whatever was coming their way. It also gave Sean space to accelerate. He went from second gear directly to fifth. He was doing 80 mph when he hit the front door.

The car's armored exterior still took some damage, and after a minute or so of healing, Sean stepped out. "And that is why I always wear a seatbelt." There had been two guards near the door. They had already morphed back into their Skrull shape, still wearing their SHIELD issue uniforms and sidearms.

Sean pulled out his .45 caliber, Kriss submachine gun from the car. "Entry way is clear," he whispered into his mic.

"Looks like a heck of a mess to me. No movement out here. Either still dazed…"

"Or waiting for me. Keep an eye out for reinforcements."

"You got it."

Sean swept the first floor. He eyed the basement, and then decided to wire a claymore to the door. He proceeded upstairs. It ended in a hallway. He slowly turned the corner, and a fist the size of a basketball collided with his head. He went flying back downstairs, crashing into the landing.

"Looks like you found us," said the Skrull. He appeared to be largely mimicking the Thing. He began to descend the stairs, having to duck his head to clear the doorway.

Sean was shaking off his dizziness from the fall. His armor kept anything from getting broken. His healing factor dealt with the internal injuries. His submachine gun was still with him thanks to a shoulder strap. He pointed at the center Skrull of the three he was currently seeing and opened fire.

"Wow… those are actually hurting," said the Skrull in a completely unworried manner. The bullets were bouncing off of him, taking little bits of stone with them. He was only ten feet from Sean now, with a wicked look on his Skrull face, despite wearing the Thing's body.

Sean shakily stood, and drew a sword from his back.

"A sword? Well, desperate times…" The Skrull raised both hands to form a giant fist.

Sean ducked under and stabbed into his midsection. The sword slid in easily.

"Grrrrk…" The Skrull toppled to his side, taking the handrail with him. He had a confused look on his face.

"I always choose adamantium in rock/paper/scissors."

Sean sheathed his sword, and started back up the stairs. He paused, regretting mocking someone he had just killed, and prayed for the repose of their soul, assuming Skrulls had souls. He then continued on his way.

He began going room by room. It was surprisingly empty. His sense of danger kept growing. Clearing rooms was dangerous for a team of trained professionals, even more so for just one.

As he entered one room, barrel first, his gun was grabbed and wrenched from his hands. He was hauled into the room by the shoulder strap and thrown against a wall. He collapsed in a heap. His eyes rolled in his head.

He shook it off. He felt strange and it wasn't just from the blow. He looked for whoever had thrown him. It was the Queen. She eyed him from the bed, where she was stretched suggestively. It was a pretty simple bedroom.

He shook his head again. "Pheromones, right? Wow, that's strong. I remember something about that in Jessica Drew's file. Look, you're attractive and all, but who knows where you've been. Besides, I'm kind of into the whole being chaste thing, you know, saving sex for marriage with someone special, fully giving myself to only one person, including my fertility? Can you even have kids?"

She kicked him into another wall. She was fast alright. "One way or another you will succumb to me."

He muttered under his breath, "Ehhh… I hate fighting supers…" He slowly got up, as she slid off the bed, and sauntered towards him. A greenish yellow energy began to glow around a hand. "That doesn't look healthy. You should get that looked into."

"You're kind of cheeky for a… what? Immortal warrior?"

"I prefer eternal." He threw a knife at her with a flick of his wrist.

She caught it. "You're kind of slow, old man."

He whipped out a Colt .45 from a shoulder holster, and began firing. "That's no way to speak to your elders."

She moved faster than Sean was expecting, first to the ceiling, and then on top of him, fist first. He was driven to the floor for the third time in as many minutes.

She began pummeling him with blows. She spoke between swings. "That armor may protect you from me breaking through, but what happens when there's only jelly left inside?"

"That's a legitimate concern," thought Sean. He managed to get a hand out of her vision. He made a fist and a blade popped out of the gauntlet. He drove it between her ribs.

She collapsed, reverting to her Skrull form, albeit in Spider-Woman's uniform. "May the one, true God have mercy on you."

He hobbled back down the stairs. "Mr. Walker, I'm on my way out. Take your team in and make sure I didn't miss anything. Then head to Times Square. I'll meet you there."

He eased into his car. Not all of the massive internal bleeding had healed yet. Well, he had fifteen minutes of driving ahead of him and a bottle of ibuprofen in the glove compartment. The car started. He had rebuilt it to last. He threw it into reverse and pulled out.

#

"I can't believe we're guarding Time's Square," complained Clay over their comlink.

"He made a good argument. Every would-be-conquerer-of-Earth attacks Time's Square. It's like a rule or something," replied Rider.

"What I can't believe is that he bought a building, inserted defensive strong points, and no one noticed, on the edge of Time's Square no less! Do you have any idea how much money this guy must have?" said Glitch, practically in a euphoria thinking of it.

"He still didn't tell us everything," grumbled Clay.

"At least he gave us this armor. Is it really Adamantium?" asked Solo.

"Yes, it is, Mr. Bourne, and I want it back when this is all over," came Sean's voice over the comms. "I'm a few minutes out. I want you all in position. I may have just taken down their Queen, but who knows with all of this shapeshifting garbage. So be ready. I think we only have a few minutes left."

He had hardly finished the last syllable when an explosion erupted. Skrull spaceships began descending from the sky. "It begins," said Rom.

#

"Crap…" said Sean. He wasn't even in position yet and the Skrulls were attacking. He had been hoping to at least get the car in the garage of the building he'd bought and get some reinforced concrete between him and the monsters invading his world. Oh, well. Such is war.

He accelerated for all he was worth, dodging vehicles and pedestrians running the other direction. They were New Yorkers. This wasn't that uncommon and they knew the drill. Get to cover, fast, and hope the guys and gals in spandex could do their job.

Not that he was wearing spandex. Whoever thought that was a good idea to wear in a combat situation had clearly never been in a combat situation. The way some of these heroes dressed you'd think they were trying to get into a comic book, or pornography. Sometimes the distinction got confusing.

He swerved around an accident, narrowly avoided a pedestrian, and threw his car into a spin while activating the emergency brake. He exited the car firing, while it continued to spin, taking out a Skrull shooting energy out of his hands with the rear right fender.

"Have to replace that. Again." He thought to himself. His bullets were coated in Adamantium. It helped, but physics wouldn't be denied. The extra mass still didn't mean it would cut through anything. Of course, sharpening the tips in the casting process meant that it would go through nearly anything. "Except the Thing's stone body, apparently," he thought to himself. Well, some things couldn't be tested in the lab. Not that he would stand still that long. 'Last time I was in a lab I became this monstrous thing!' Blah blah blah… for a guy over six feet tall, nigh invulnerable, with super strength, he sure was touchy sometimes.

It was pretty easy to see which Skrulls had been given invulnerability and which hadn't. Some were slightly resistant to his bullets, but he had extra mags for that. Still, there were a lot of Skrulls, a lot of civilians, and not nearly enough heroes to go around.

It didn't help that some of the Skrulls seemed completely immune to his hail of bullets. Even an Adamantium bullet couldn't compare with an Adamantium sword sometimes. Still, that meant he had to get within closing distance.

Sean called into his comlink. "Mr. Clay, get on the quads and give me some covering fire, please. And do try not to hit the innocent bystanders."

"I only hit what I intend to."

Sean let the bragging pass. For the most part that statement was true.

Sean didn't bother looking up. He just waited until the four fifty caliber anti-aircraft guns opened up on the Skrulls in front of him. He hadn't just bought the building. He had completely renovated it. Little of the original structure remained. He had fitted it with a façade to hide weapons for when this battle occurred, turning what the Skrulls thought would be a televised victory into a kill zone.

As every eye turned towards the building raining death from above upon them, Sean sprinted forward, drawing his Adamantium katana. It was a more elegant weapon, from a more civilized age. Even the more invulnerable among the Skrulls couldn't stand up to an Adamantium blade.

Still, there were a lot of them, and they had air superiority. He was reminded of this when a precision blast threw him into a store front as he was racing towards his next target. Six Skrulls closed in on him. One had flames licking his fingers. His armor could deal with blows, but had only minor resistance to extreme temperature. He was still too injured to get up. Fortunately his lungs hadn't collapsed.

"Now, Glitch," he croaked into his comlink.

There was an explosion along the center of his building, cutting up from the ground floor to the sixth. The façade fell away revealing a large mecha.

"LET'S DANCE, SUCKERS!" roared Glitch with glee over the external speakers.

Sean groaned inside his helmet, and it wasn't just because of his injuries.

Glitch began to pump out rounds from the mecha's shoulder cannons with some degree of accuracy thanks to the weapon system's targeting capabilities.

The Skrulls surrounding Sean beat a hasty retreat to deal with the new threat, but not before the one with flame capabilities set the store front on fire.

Sean tried to use his one working arm to drag himself through to the back of the store, but the flames were moving too quickly and he hadn't healed enough yet.

Suddenly the flames around him started to die down a bit and strong arms began pulling him out the back. They leaned him up against a wall. It was Dr. Nemesis.

"My fire suppressant capsules seem to be effective."

"I'm glad you've been using your time wisely."

"Are you giving me attitude after I just saved your life?"

"Good point. Give me a couple minutes and I'll be back in the fight."

"Well, we have the time. U. just arrived and are keeping the Skrulls from overwhelming Glitch. She's not the most capable with that robot."

"She's a thief, not a fighter."

"Yes, well, this fight may be inconsequential."

"Why?"

"I've been monitoring the transmission signals. It would seem that the Avengers, Ironman's branch and the other, have gone to the Savage Land."

"What?" Sean exclaimed and then his body complained against the exertion. More weakly he replied, "Why?"

"They detected a Skrull ship descending before the battle began."

"A diversion then."

"It seems most likely."

Sean was quiet, clearly thinking.

"I have more news. We didn't have time earlier, but my research did produce some results. I have a… well, for lack of a better word, a biological agent in a gaseous form that will render all shapeshifted Skrulls into their natural shape. I was able to take a sample from Lyja when she first joined, and then compare it against the Skrull we had captured, and Lyja later."

"What?" Sean hated taking revelations while he was barely capable of moving, captive audience nothing.

"It would seem that the person you recruited was indeed Lyja, or at least a Skrull bearing her same characteristics. The sample was not modified with the same methods as the Skrull you captured or the later Skrull." Dr. Nemesis paused. "I, uh, didn't inform the team because…"

"You didn't know who to trust. Don't worry, doctor. Totally understandable. I'm glad to see you finished your research without being compromised yourself."

"Thank you."

"Did you manage to produce large quantities?"

"Yes. Would you like me to dose the area?"

"Yes… no!" Sean grabbed Dr. Nemesis' arm as he rose to leave. "Get to the Savage Land. I suspect they'll need it more. Can you leave me with some samples?"

He gave Sean a strange looking gun. "Only effective at fifty feet, I'm afraid. How do I get to the Savage Land?"

"Take Mr. Bourne with you. He can teleport you there and provide you with some muscle. Come back if it gets too dicey."

"Understood."

#

The first stop for the Thunderbolts was Washington DC. The fight between the Skrulls and the local law enforcement was looking so poor that the Thunderbolts didn't even bother to land. They all bailed out of the jet, some of them using parachutes but most of them making due without. Jackson watched them all bail out and looked over the battlefield, wondering where the most powerfulSkrulls were. Unlike the other members of the team he wasn't overly interested in preserving anything. Not the lives of the people down there, or the great national monuments, or even the United States itself. No, he wanted to do one very simple thing. He wanted to break the Skrulls, body and soul. He wanted to see those green warmongers groveling for their lives at his feet. His face screwed up in a shadow of the internal conflict in his own mind and soul.

Was that really what he wanted? When Nick Fury asked him to help fight this war his motivation had been twofold. He'd wanted whatever information Fury had teased him with pertaining to that fateful explosion, and he'd wanted to find out what he had become after the explosion. But his rational considerations were covered by a thick fog made from his extreme mental exhaustion. In ten long years he hadn't know a moment of sleep or genuine rest and his mind was the worse for it. Rational thought had become very difficult, and it grew worse whenever he made extensive use of his powers. He was beginning to lose his sense of self. Then a surge of exhilaration washed away his doubts and misgivings. He saw a concentrated crowd of Skrulls a ways away from the main battleground. That looked like a fun time to be had. But then he saw the ships. Half a dozen of them hanging in the air like big bugs waiting to be pinned down to a board. And just like that there were a pair of absolutely enormous metal spikes in the sky above each of the Skrull ships. But he didn't drop them. On a whim he added threads to the spikes. They started spinning and descended on the ships slowly.

#

The captain of the leading attack ship was almost thrown from his command chair from the sudden impact. "Report!" He shouted.

"Foreign object collision!" One of his bridge crew shouted. "Shields dropping, 30 seconds until failure."

"Get us out of here!" The Captain demanded.

"We can't, the shields are pulling power from all other systems just to stay active. We need to abandon the ship."

"No time. Shields failing in five seconds. All hands brace for impact."

#

Sean roused himself. He grabbed a ration bar from a pouch on his belt. Healing abilities were all well and good, but you still had to supply your body with enough nutrition to heal itself. He'd have to compare notes with Wolverine some time. Somehow he doubted that the short brawler had the same limitation of conservation of mass that was imposed upon himself. He'd once eaten a whole turkey before a battle in anticipation of losing a limb. The gladiatorial games lose their appeal once you're fed to a lion.

He managed to get to his feet, despite a little swaying, and having to steady himself against a wall, he was doing alright. "Rom, report," he called into the com.

"We're holding our own, but only because the Skrulls aren't bombing us."

"They want their soldiers to do the dirty work. They can use the footage for propaganda. It may be only a matter of time until they decide it's not worth it."

"Then what should be our course?"

"We need a swift victory here."

"We have not the manpower."

"I know." Sean saw a group of men approaching him in combat gear, bearing a familiar company logo. "We'll just have to hope for some allies." Sean ended the call.

"Mr. O'Mally?" asked the man leading the group. He led a ten man squad. Their eyes and weapons were trained all around them.

"Yes?"

The man saluted, smartly. "I'm Lt. Thornton, sir. Mr. Wraith sends his regards. How may we assist?"

#

The sparks his giant screws created as they ate their way through energy shields were almost beautiful. But after a very short time the show was over. All six ships were grounded and all but devoid of power. Jackson wanted to leave them there, screwed to the ground. But he could already feel his focus slipping and one of the screws disappeared. He let go of the rest. That much mass was simply too much for him, at least for the moment. But that changed very little about the condition of the Skrull ships. The holes were gone but they were still devoid of power.

"Time to go mingle." Jackson said to Osborn before he jumped out of the jet. "Don't wait up!" he shouted over his shoulder."

"I genuinely hope the Skrulls manage to kill him."

#

Onboard one of the Skrull ships was a group of telepaths that operated as a unit call The Collective. They pooled their collective psychic energy and used it to suppress the telepathic abilities of any enemy force they engaged. Of course, that was in normal circumstances. Since the readings from their scanners indicated no active telepathy their Captain cleared them for offensive tactics. All eight minds working as one searched the battlefield for any high-value targets. The moment they extended their minds outside their ship the lighted on one individual. Their mental eyes were drawn not by the statistics of a high body count or by their new target's proximity to the Queen. They were drawn to Jackson Owens because of the sheer impact his presence had on the astral plane. His existence on the psychic plane was so massive that he pulled their minds to him like gravity.

There was no questioning between minds because the depth of their bond made such things unnecessary. They registered this presence as a threat of the highest priority and went to scout it. They could feel no self-awareness in the psychic mass so they reached out, probing for a better sense of what it was. Once their minds got close enough Jackson's mind pulled them in like water being sucked down a drain.

Each of the eight minds woke up in a dark space, their bonds undone. "What happened?" one of them asked.

"We were pulled into the anomalous mind. This is the interior of it." Their leader stated calmly. "Our life support systems should keep our bodies alive long enough for us to destroy this place and return." He held up a hand and brightened it until it glowed like a torch. His breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the rules of this place were the same as those of the astral plane. He could make things real through force of will. He made the light bright enough to light up their immediate surroundings. What he saw next robbed him of words.

"What is this?" one of the subordinate psychics asked, his voice choked with horror. The hand torch had illuminated the interior of a very expansive marble building. The stone was black with streaks of gray and white. And splattered with red. The floors, walls, and even the ceiling were splattered in gore and bits of bone. One by one the Skrulls all added light to the area revealing more of their surroudings. In front of them they saw the ceiling vanish into a pitch black sky.

"That must be where the core of the mind is. We move ahead." Their leader ordered. The group felt reluctant but they followed. After walking only a short distance the light became unnecessary. There was a ring of blue fire in the sky bright enough to light their surroundings. But there was something coming out of it. A stream of something black and thick as tar descended from it onto a sacrificial altar. Standing on the altar was a young human man. The blackness streamed over him and into him as well as the altar. His back was to them and he gave no sign that he was aware of their presence.

"This is the core, isn't it?" The weakest among them asked, pointing at the human.

"I believe so. But that does beg a question. What is that thing up there?" another of them asked.

"It does not matter. Destroy the core and the mindscape will collapse." The leader chastised. He conjured a mental projection of an energy rifle and fired. The blast struck the black ooze and vanished. The light of the ring of fire changed from blue to scarlet. A voice echoed through the building, dispassionate and cruel.

"Interlopers will be punished." The flow of sludge thickened and hid both the body and altar from view. The extra material formed a spreading pool. One of the Skrulls wasn't fast enough to keep the mud from touching him. That moment of contact sent a myriad of horrible images through his head, scenes of death and depravity that even a seasoned soldier would never encounter. One of his comrades pulled him back after only a moment but that moment left its mark. The Skrull was shaking uncontrollably, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth chattering. The mud spread further and forced the aliens back away from the core.

"We're retreating. This anomaly must be studied before-" The leader's voice was cut off when the surface of the mud began to tremble. Humanoid figures took form from the mud, covered in armor like that of medieval knights and so black that it seemed as though all light were being pulled into them. Voices, like the dying curses of drowning men issued from behind their helmets.

"AngraMainyu… bids you… death." They said in the language of the Skrullhomeworld. Dozens of figures began emerging from the ooze and repeating the same words. The Skrull who had been touched by the mud panicked and ran, shoving his comrades out of the way in order to flee faster. One of the black figures caught in in an instant, moving at impossible speed to plunge a black gauntlet through the alien's chest.

#

Dr. Nemesis and Solo appeared in the Savage Land. They were in the vegetation surrounding a clearing. In the center of the clearing were two groups of heroes eyeing each other. It looked as if a fight was about to break out. "Not a moment too soon, I see," said Dr. Nemesis. He cocked what looked like an M-32 grenade launcher. He then began to fire all around the clearing as fast as he could. The canisters he launched began to release a purple gas. After expending his ammo he turned to Solo. "Now I suggest we make ourselves scarce. Neither the heroes nor the Skrulls may think our intentions are above board." They took off at a run to get deeper into the jungle.

Both groups of heroes had started moving towards the duos' position to get out of the smoke and find out what was going on. As the two parties cleared the haze, the Avengers began to realize that there were many Skrulls in their midst. For their part, the Skrulls seemed as surprised as the heroes.  
The shock wore off and a desperate, if short fight ensued. The Skrulls were quickly overwhelmed and dispatched. Being that close to Wolverine is never a good position for an enemy.

The battle ended just in time for the heroes to see Dr. Nemesis and Solo fly off in one of their ships. "How long does it take for you to be able to teleport again?" asked Dr. Solo from the pilot's seat.

"Depends. Teleporting the both of us halfway around the world takes a lot out of me." He looked towards the ground. "Won't they be mad we're stealing on of their ships?"

"Probably. But there's still one left and they can all fit. This will give them the opportunity they need to work out their silly disagreement on the way back to New York."

Neither saw a green skinned Spider-Woman step out from a dark corner until it was too late. The ship rocked a little, and then sped off along its trajectory towards New York.  
#

The bodies of the eight Skrull telepaths began seizing in their life-support chairs as their minds were swallowed. The crew frantically tried to stop the seizures but no amount of drugs or electrical stimuli would fix the problem. One by one the bodies went still, black sludge dripping from their mouths and eyes. The crew was at a loss. None of them had ever seen anything like that before.

"Report this to the Captain. Tell him tha-" The leader of the Skrull telepaths sat up from his chair and looked at the living Skrulls with eyes blacker than coal.

"AngraMainyu bids you death." It said in a horribly dual toned voice. All eight bodies detonated as if they were made of plastic explosives and the ship was reduced to scrap along with its crew.

#

Sean and the squad made their way down an alley towards Time's Square. "I need to know your combat abilities. Now."

"We each can hit a quarter at a hundred feet 75% of the time, we all have four years of active military service or more, we've got Mr. Wraith's latest energy rifles, they'll go through a half inch of steel at 300 feet, and our armor is good enough to take small arms at point blank. Fifty cal and we're just as dead as the next guy."

"Okay. Well, they won't be shooting small arms. They'll be having energy blasts and fists that can level cars. I want you to stay far enough away from each other to not make a big group target, but close enough to support each other. Do NOT let them get close to you. We hold the building that raining death on them. They have everything else." He peeked around the corner of the building to get a better view of the battlefield. His mecha was wrecked. His building looked like Swiss cheese, but it was still shooting at the advancing Skrulls. They were largely dug in behind cars and other buildings. Most of them were between Sean and his building. "Okay. They're all looking the wrong way, focused on the building. We can probably take out a few before they notice us, but then we're largely in the open and farther than is comfortable from help."

There were acknowledging nods.

"Alright. Let's move out."

They moved out of the alley at a dead sprint, spreading out, and taking positions to engage the Skrulls further down the street. Once they were all in position, Sean gave the lieutenant a nod. He gave a signal to his men and they began firing at the Skrulls, who were largely exposed to them.

Then there was a large explosion. A Skrull ship hovering above had apparently been keeping close tabs on the battle for Times Square. Sean was thrown a dozen feet. He was dazed, but from where he lay, he could see the scorched bodies of some of the squad.

As his vision wavered, the Skrulls began to close in on him and the surviving members of the squad, but in his groggy mind, the scene was transported back to his youth. It was a clearing in the woods. His house was aflame. Raiders surrounded the building, with his pregnant wife inside. He was bleeding on the ground.

He stood up, much to the surprise of the SKrulls. "Feicfidh mé a sheolann tú ar ais go dtí na claiseanna de ifreann as ar tháinig tú! Tú dúnmharfóirí ! Ionróirí!" He drew the claymore off of his back, tossing aside the sheath. "Aargh!" The surprised Skrulls fell on every side. "Tá sé seo do mo bhean chéile! Tá sé seo do mo pháiste!"

The Skrulls were soldiers though, and they recovered. They pulled back from Sean and drew out their firearms, or used their ranged superpowers. He was knocked back, his sword flung from him. The remainder of the squad was barely holding their own behind a burning SUV.

Rom tried to get in to support, but was driven off by the Skrull ship, which was also pounding away at the building that the rest of Sean's team was taking cover in.

As a Skrull in the form of the Hulk picked up Sean, an armored person fired an RPG from an alley way at the alien's back. He exploded and Sean was tossed to the side. The person immediately dropped the expended tube and pulled a stinger missile launcher from their back. The missile streaked up to strike directly at the Skrull ship's cockpit. The ship veered away, lurching as it went.

As the Skrull ground troops turned their attention to this new threat, the person ran in a crouch, firing rounds from a grenade launcher. The Skrulls scattered. The person stopped over Sean, guarding him. There was a certain similarity in their armor.

Sean was mumbling quietly, "Uimh Cá bhfuil tú, mo ghrá? Conas is féidir tá siad tógtha agat? I... Ní féidir liom cuimhneamh ar cad a fhéachann tú mhaith... an lasracha... tá gach is féidir liom a fheiceáil na lasracha..."

The person in armor looked down at him, then returned their attention to the Skrulls. With the Skrull ship not an immediate threat, Rom was able to get to their position. He carried Sean back to the building, and then returned to provide cover for the squad and the newcomer to retreat.

As they made it back to the building, Sean started coming to. At the sight of Rom his hand went for his sword on his back. Not finding it, he pulled a knife and leapt backwards.

The newcomer took a step and reached out a hand, "An tsíocháin, mo ghrá. Tá tú i measc cairde." It was a woman's voice. Sean's helmet swiveled side to side. "Bhí tú ag a bhfuil aisling dona."

With that, he almost seemed to collapse. The woman in armor rushed to him. She took off his helmet. His eyes were wide and he was very pale.

"What ails him?" asked Rom.

"Over a thousand years of PTSD." The woman took off her helmet, revealing a young face. A braid fell half way down her back. "He's still haunted by the loss of his wife and child." She affectionately touched his face. "He blames himself for not saving them." She looked at Rom.

"I have suffered similar losses," said the Space Knight, with a note of regret.

"It's not just them," said Sean, cold sweat beginning to dry on his forehead. "It's the other people I didn't save, the people I shouldn't have killed and did, and those I couldn't kill before they killed others. But I can't even remember what she looked like. I can't remember her name. All I see is her burning in our home. Then there's the rage to…" His hands clenched into visits and his brow furrowed.

"Sean!" The woman grabbed his hand. His face cleared.

"I'm sorry." He began taking slow breaths. "Status report, Rom?"

"Our defenses have become structurally unsound and we are almost out of ammo. If the Skrulls send another attack, I don't believe we can hold."

As a roar of engines was heard, they all peered up towards the sky as a Skrull drop ship descended.

"Speak of the devil…" said one of the surviving squad members.

Thirty Skrulls descended to the street and opened fire on their position immediately.

"Get to cover!" yelled Wraith. They really weren't even in the building yet, and while it had significant holes, it was still better than being in the open.

Inside they found U. and his unit of special forces firing from hidden slits in the walls. Sean nodded to him and took up position. The Skrulls were closing fast, dodging from cover to cover. As the quad fifties on the roof fell silent, they grew more bold. "Must be out of ammo," thought Sean. They had blasted off the doors to the building and almost reached the doorway, when there was a flash of light.

Nick Fury appeared with his Secret Warriors. They were behind the Skrulls, who were now themselves caught in the open. Rom and Sean held the doorway as the Skrulls were cut down.

Nick approached Sean. Sean saluted. "Sir!"

Fury removed his cigar. "Good work, soldier. Any word on the Skrull Queen?"

"She may have been killed in all the fighting, but I doubt it, sir."

Fury sighed. "Well, based on the movement of their ships, it looks like the battle is moving to Central Park. I'll take my team over there. I want you to make sure that there aren't any Skrulls trying to slink off. This thing isn't done yet, but there might be some who are seeing that the tide is turning and want to jump ship."

Sean wondered if there was a pun there, but knew Fury just enough to know that he didn't tend to make jokes. "Understood, sir."

"Good." Fury walked back to his team. "Druid, get us to Central Park." There was a flash and they disappeared.

Sean turned to his team that was immediately around him. "You heard the man. Let's move out." He relayed the orders to those still on the roof. "And someone get a hold of Dr. Nemesis and Mr. Bourne."

#

The Skrull Queen landed the stolen ship near a force of Skrulls in central park. One of her generals approached as she walked down the ship's ramp. "How goes the battle?" she asked him.

He looked to see if any were close. "Poorly I'm afraid, m'lady. We were unable to capture Reed Richards."

She stared incredulously at him. "How?! We had replaced Dr. Pym, even after that team of nobodies tried to switch him back. We had a man on the inside."

"Yes, well, it would seem that our man was replaced with the real Dr. Pym... again." The general was decidedly nervous in telling her this bad news.

Her brow furrowed in irritation. "Who else?"

"What?"

"WHO ELSE DID THEY MANAGE TO RETURN?!"

"Black Bolt, Dum Dum Dugan…" He paled at the look she gave him.

She spoke slowly and in a low tone. "Did they get our Jarvis agent?"

"N-no. It would seem he was undetected."

She calmed, a little. "Then this might all be salvageable. SHIELD will be unable to effectively resist and all Stark weapons are offline. How goes our fight in New York? Did we get good footage of their heroes being slaughtered in Times Square?"

"W-well…"

#

Jackson Owens was in the middle of a crowd of Skrull impersonators dealing out pain and injury like a parade float tossing candy. Then he felt something. A kind of pressure on the back of his head, or inside the back of his head. His conjurations faltered and his strength seemed to drain away. In that moment the Skrulls dogpiled onto him one of them binding his hands and feet with something metal and heavy. Then he felt his arms being pulled taut.

"My, my. Aren't you the troublemaker." A feminine and British voice said. Jackson blinked a few times, his eyelids feeling heavy with lack of sleep. He felt weak for some reason, like he'd conjured too many objects. When his eyes cleared he saw Spider-woman. No, he saw the Skrull imposter of Spider-woman. The other Skrulls seemed deferential to her for some reason.

"Who are you?" Jackson asked, his voice slurred.

"I am Queen Veranke. The more interesting question is who you are, little boy. I'd very much like to know that."

"Jackson Owens."

"I know your name. I suppose the question I should really ask is what you are? Through our rituals we mimicked the abilities of every hero we ever encountered, no matter where that power came from. So why couldn't our agent duplicate yours? What secrets do you hold?"

"I don't know." He said, even his memories of what he was doing there growing faint. But there was one question burning in his mind. Something that hadn't bothered him before but did now that his power seemed to have deserted him. "Why?"

"Why what? Why did I choose this form? Why did I replace your world's heroes with my agents? Why are we here?" she asked, hoping to get a rapport going. But he couldn't answer. His confusion showed on his face along with his utter exhaustion. Veranke released pheromones that would boost his energy level and make him more compliant. "It was written that this world would be ours. But we are few. So I chose to break the will of your world rather than your backs. I took your technology, your heroes, and even your faith in each other. A broken people cannot fight a war." The conversation was interrupted when the Skrull ship that housed a contingent of telepaths exploded. Jackson felt his power flood him in a sudden wave. Laughter began to bubble up in his chest and a voice that wasn't quite his own emerged.

"I can answer those questions but you really shouldn't trust the words of a Liar." Without making the effort a cage of black metal appeared around Queen Veranke and himself. The Skrulls holding his chains were far enough away that they were locked outside. Two kitchen cleavers lopped his arms off just above where the chains bound him. In a moment his limbs were whole again and he smiled at the Queen. The voice spoke through him again. "Spreading deceit and despair, wielding it like a weapon. Breaking the spirit of mortals before crushing them under your heel." The voice was harsh and unyielding, full of malice and happy hate. But it was the look in Jackson's eyes that held Veranke and the others in place. It made them feel tiny, insignificant. As if he were looking down on them from some great height. "Truly, you're a woman after my own heart." Those words tore through Veranke's soul like nothing ever had before. She'd believed in the prophecy her whole life, even when her father had banished her to a barren rock. Even that hardship had seemed like part of some grand design. It was the way her god had preserved her for this task, otherwise she would have met the same fate as her father. She had never had so much as a moment of doubt that her cause was righteous.

Until now.

This creature, drawn from some dark abominable place, was praising her actions. The voices of the most revered members of her faith had not shaken her conviction, nor had the disapproval of her family, but Jackson's words had cut at the very root of her conviction. How could she do anything that this monster would find praiseworthy? Truly this… thing was the more evil than she could imagine. She could tell just by looking at it.

The moment was broken when a Skrull encased in organic steel charged through the bars of the cage and tackled Jackson. Veranke's moment of doubt passed. The creature had declared itself a liar after all, why should she believe anything it said. "Kill it! All of you, kill Jackson Owens!" The Queen commanded. She left that part of the battlefield a moment later, going to join her Super-Skrulls in battle against the Avengers. She wouldn't admit it to herself but she was really running away from Jackson.

#

Songbird was more than holding her own against the ordinary Skrulls but the Super Skrulls required several of the Thunderbolts to work together. And when they brought one down they moved on to the next one or the next ship. But the thing that caught Songbird's eye was the mass of Skrulls to the north. A group of Skrulls that looked like the X-men, or at least some of them. And a few of them were impaled on medieval looking spears. Now she knew where Jackson was and man had he stepped in it. There were at least a dozen Skrulls with powers attacking him. No one could withstand that kind of overwhelming disadvantage. She was about to write him off as a lost cause when the image of his tired eyes flashed through her memories. Sure, Jackson could accurately be described as a monster but there was a normal kid underneath the sadism and crazy.

Yup, she was gonna have to pull his chestnuts out of the fire.

She flew over the group and used her power in a way she rarely did these days. She let out a sonic scream powerful enough to flatten the grass for yards around the dogpile of Skrulls and sent the pointy-eared green aliens into convulsions. She caught a glimpse of a bloodied shirt sleeve under the pile of screaming green aliens and flew lower so she could try to pull him out. IT was reckless and she knew it but her conscience wouldn't let her do otherwise. It was morally right but a serious tactical error. The Skrull imitating the X-man Rogue slammed a fist into her back, driving her into the ground and into the alien mosh pit.

Jackson was beaten to a bloody pulp several times in that pile of super-powered aliens. The Colossus Skrull in particular had crushed his skull three times. But for a few brief moments they all stopped pummeling him. Songbird's scream had caused them enough pain to keep them from staying on the attack. It was the opening he needed. He materialized a super-dense black sand and used it to push them all away. Once he was back on his feet he smiled widely and lifted his arms. "You all seem to be very religious so let me give you an object lesson." Dozens of metal objects dropped down from overhead and sank into the ground. Lengths of steel cables studded with sharp metal thorns attached themselves to the Skrulls and tied them to the metal crosses. Some of the Skrulls tried to resist, others tried to go after Jackson. It did none of them any good. Within seconds they were all bound and bleeding. Except for Colossus. He was armored and he weighed too much to be dragged onto one of the crosses.

"I will break you in half." He said, a slight Russian accent leftover from the personality it had adopted. Jackson was about to reply when he heard Songbird screaming in pain. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a green-skinned Rogue pummeling his teammate. For the first time in a very long time he felt something akin to empathy. He created a super-dense ball of black metal and shot it at the Rogue-Skrull's head. It struck just before Colossus' fist slammed into Jackson's back and pushed him several inches into the hard ground. Metal fists hit him over and over again, the damage vanishing between each blow. After a little while the injuries stopped vanishing and Jackson stopped moving. The metal covered Skrull observed the unmoving body and used a heavy foot to crush the broken man further into the ground. Then he walked over to where Songbird was struggling to get back on her feet.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." She groaned when she saw the hulking mass of muscle headed her way. The Rogue-Skrull had damaged the metal harness that helped her use her sound-based abilities so she wasn't sure if she could even put up a fight against the fake X-man. "I'm guessing you wouldn't take a bribe?" A shake of the alien's head confirmed just how bad her situation was. She felt her throat tighten with the last of the sonic energy she had at her disposal. She screamed for all she was worth, she screamed until her throat felt like it had torn open. The metal encased Skrull had been forced back a few dozen feet but the scream, unfocussed by the high-tech harness that the Rogue-Skrull had destroyed, simply couldn't hurt him.

Songbird watched her doom walking toward with an exhausted clarity. She knew she was going to die. She was too far from her teammates for help. She was too weak to fight back. Somehow she didn't think she could work up enough sincerity for prayer so asking for a miracle wasn't going to happen. This was it. She saw the gleaming metal fist swinging down to crush her skull descend almost as if it were in slow motion. Then everything went black.

"Gotcha." Came the shaky but triumphant voice of a self-satisfied young man. Songbird blinked. There was nothing but black across her field of vision but she still had a field of vision so she couldn't be dead. Then the perfectly intact face of Jackson Owens interposed itself between her and what turned out to be some kind of viscous black slime. "Took me way too long to think of suffocating that metal schmuck. Good think he doesn't understand the concept of playing possum." She could see veins standing out on Jackson's head and neck and they were far darker than could possibly be healthy. But since he seemed to be immortal she ignored it. He reached down to pick her up but stopped short. The veins darkened and spread even further. Something that looked a lot like pain made Jackson scowl deeply and bare his teeth.

"Got you, sugar." The Rogue Skrull laughed. Her laughter quickly turned to coughing as Jackson's power flowed into her. Her body felt the wrongness of it followed shortly by her mind. Visions of evil deeds and the desecration of all manner of living creatures hit her like a brick between the eyes and she stumbled back, breaking contact with Jackson.

Jackson Owens, instead of feeling drained and sick felt better than he had in years. He had adapted to the stress of his dark powers over the last decade so the sudden loss of that burden gave him a sense of freedom and euphoria as well as clarity. His head was suddenly clear and in less than a second he'd made a choice that would impact the rest of his life. He spun around and grabbed the Rogue-Skrull's face with his bare hands. More of his unnatural power flowed out of him and into her. Pity almost made him let go when the alien began screaming but his desire ot be rid of the aweful power he'd been cursed with overrode any other concerns. Black ooze had started flowing out of her eyes and mouth by the time he finally let go. She'd stopped struggling a while before but the power had kept draining out of him. Now that it was gone, and all of his creations along with it, he felt just how exhausted his body and mind really were. All that kept him conscious were the things that he could remember now that his mind was clear. He had to tell someone. Warn someone. Then a metal fish hit him in the back with a crunch. Bones shattered in his back and left hip as Colossus avenged himself for being suffocated by some tar-like goo. His fellow Skrulls were all unconscious or in a state of shock from the pain that had been inflicted on them, leaving him to administer the coup de gras to these two humans. He raised both massive arms, this time he was sure to kill both of them. Jackson's upper half twisted and jerked in spasms of agony from his broken spine and crushed kidney and Songbird seemed almost catatonic. They were helpless. But, as fate would have it, that was the same moment Norman Osborn killed Queen Veranke. The Colossus Skrull ran to his fallen monarch without delivering the final blow.

#

Sean Wraith was walking around the battlefield and restraining any Skrulls that were still alive when he stumbled on Songbird and Jackson. She was unconscious but he was still fighting to stay awake, using the pain of his broken bones. But he could feel his life draining away without his powers healing and sustaining him. He wasn't too concerned by the prospect of dying again despite his regrets over the things he'd done but he needed to warn someone before he went. Sean knelt down by them to check their pulses. Jackson's hand grabbed his wrist with a frightening strength for such a weak looking human. Using the last dregs of power he had, power that felt pure compared to the abilities he'd been using for the last decade, he sent Sean a vision.

#

Sean Wraith was far older than he looked and had seen almost everything under the sun twice. But this vision was something else, even for him. He saw the young man who had grabbed his wrist standing under a starlit night. There were five other people standing at his side but Sean couldn't tell anything about them, even height or gender. The boy's eyes looked right at him and he smiled malevolently. The grass under his feel blackened and died until the world around him was devoid of life. Then he looked up and the stars started going out. When they were gone the dark sky split open and something unintelligibly huge came through. In some horrid language it spoke six words but Sean understood the meaning behind them. They were six names: Liar, Weaver, Brute, Silence, Taker, and Siren. The names or titles of the six harbingers of extinction.

#

When the vision ended the boy's hand dropped limply form his wrist. He took a shuddering breath and spoke the last words of his life, "Kill us all." The light went out of his eyes and his body went limp. Sean bent down and closed the dead man's eyes. He picked up Songbird and carried her to the medics but didn't say a word. He'd been handed a quest, like in the days of his youth. This one was much bigger but a quest was a quest. The only question now was how to deal with it.

#

Black ooze seeped out of the Rogue-Skrull's body and slithered along the ground like a living thing. It pooled around Jackson's corpse, wrapping around him like a burial shroud. Then both the ooze and body sank into the ground leaving no trace. No one noticed one missing corpse on a battlefield covered in them. Norman Osborn, and many others, didn't really ask questions when they realized Jackson was unaccounted for. Sean didn't notice either, until Songbird asked to see the body.

"He was right here." Sean said with a puzzled look on his face.

"Figures. I'm pretty sure he was immortal. He probably woke up and walked off to scare and demoralize someone else."

"Who was that kid?" Sean asked, the information being useful to keeping his vision from coming true.

"He was a monster most of the time. Sadistic, single-minded, hypocritical, and stone cold crazy. But one in a while he seemed human. I've never seen anything like it." She said. Sean looked down at the patch of ground where Jackson's body had been and let out a deep sigh.

That's just great."

#

"Looks like the man who would be king bit it." A young woman in a simple white dress said. She sat perched on a wooden crate in the darkness of an abandoned storage building. A huge, hulking beast of a man stood in the doorway with half an eye open, listening to the young woman's musings. "Our supposedly immortal leader died. Such a strange world we live in."

"We don't really need him anyway. Unlike the rest of us he didn't choose the darker path. He would have been dead weight." Said a plain looking woman in her 30's wearing medical scrubs and a white coat.

"I could probably pull him back like I did the first time." Said a short man with a black goatee wearing what appeared to be biker gear. "Don't know if the important bit would come back with him though."

"He has another purpose to fulfil. IT told me." The fifth member of the group said. "He accomplished the purpose he was resurrected for, what happens to him next is no concern of ours." The other four were immediately cowed by his declaration. The man had incredibly bland looks, he was of indeterminate age and race, and his eyes revealed absolutely nothing of what he was thinking. "But he did give a vision to a champion of mankind. That is a loose end we cannot afford. Sean Wraith must die."


End file.
